Prologue

It had been nearly a year since the incident at the Tower of Mirage Flame.

I was back home in the Dragon’s Domain, where the estate they insisted on calling my “residence” stretched out like a monument to excess.

A chorus of sparrows chirped outside my window, rousing me from sleep. I sat up slowly, shoulders heavy with lingering drowsiness, and let my gaze wander around the absurdly spacious bedroom.

A gift from the Dragon King, this estate was outrageously oversized. Even this bedroom alone could have hosted a banquet. By my rough estimate, it stretched at least forty tatami mats across. The ceiling soared nearly seven meters overhead, crowned with a chandelier so extravagant it looked like it belonged in a royal ballroom.

“This is still ridiculous. It’s supposed to be my home, but I can’t relax here at all.”

Oil paintings and ornate carvings lined the walls, some unmistakably masterpieces, others mere gaudy displays of wealth. Emeralds, amethysts, and diamonds were everywhere, the decor seemingly mocking the idea of value as if treasure were just another motif.

The bed beneath me was a five-by-five-meter monstrosity, draped entirely in silk. It was truly a super king among kings. I let out a long, weary sigh.

That was when my palm brushed against something soft to the touch, warm and yielding beneath my fingers.

A girl’s chest, slight and delicate, pressed gently against my hand. Her lips parted just a little in sleep, the rise and fall of her breath steady and serene.

“Nnn…”

Lilith hadn’t woken yet. She was still deep in her dreams.

For a moment, my brain just shut down.

“Wha— Gah!”

Then, a shout burst from my lungs, loud and unfiltered, shattering the quiet morning.

Beside me, Lilith stirred. Still half-asleep, she rubbed at her eyes with the back of her hand, blinking drowsily as she murmured, “Morning.”

“Yeah, morning… And seriously, how many times do I have to tell you to quit sneaking into my bed?”

Ever since that day at the Tower of Mirage Flame, since her duel with Cordelia, Lilith had started showing signs of what I could only call “dreamwalking.” Especially on nights when I mentioned Cordelia, she’d conveniently lose her way and end up here, curled up beside me like it was the most natural thing in the world. And by morning? Like clockwork, she’d be sound asleep in my bed, as if none of it ever happened.

“Even if you tell me to stop,” she said, voice low and languid.

I narrowed my eyes. “Even if I tell you to?”

“It’s not something I can just turn off,” she murmured, unrepentant.

“Oh, come on!”

With an exasperated grunt, I reached over and dropped a firm knuckle onto her head.

“Ow,” she whimpered.

“Well, yeah. That was the point.”

To be fair, since the Tower incident, and even through our journeys to the Uncharted Wastes and the Demon Realm, Lilith had been by my side without fail. Aside from that one time-looped anomaly, she’d actually spent more time with me than Cordelia had in this lifetime.

“Even so,” she muttered, her voice small, “I still can’t accept it.”

“Accept what?”

“That you’re enrolling at the Magic Academy… and reuniting with Cordelia Allston.” Her eyes glistened, and the next second, her fists were pummeling my head with soft, rapid strikes that were more sulking than violent. “You hopeless idiot.”

Thump. Thump thump. Thump thump thump.

“You blockhead,” Lilith muttered, still gently pounding her fists against my head.

That was my cue. I sprang to my feet and made a beeline for the door, fleeing her half-hearted assault.

“C’mon, let’s eat already,” I called over my shoulder.

At that, she finally stirred, throwing off the blanket and sitting up.

And then… I froze. My breath caught in my throat, my eyes wide and refusing to look away.

“Ryuto? What’s wrong?”

I didn’t answer.

I couldn’t.

“Ryuto?” she repeated, her voice tinged with concern.

Drawing a slow, steady breath, I forced myself to look away, fixing my gaze on anything but her.

“Hey, uh… Lilith?”

“I’ve been asking what’s wrong. Are you going to tell me?”

“You’re… You’re only wearing underwear. Again. Didn’t we already have this conversation?”

Lilith simply smiled, bright and innocent, utterly unapologetic.

“You’re the only one in this house, aren’t you? Normally, I sleep naked, so honestly, you should be praising me for wearing anything at all.”

Thunk.

I stormed over and cracked her on the crown of her head with a solid, well-earned punch. No mercy this time.

After that chaotic start, we somehow managed to finish breakfast and gear up. We pulled on our usual travel outfits—practical, rugged, built for long journeys—and slung on our matching hiking packs, the kind we’d grown used to over countless trips. We hadn’t spent much time in this house, not with how often we were on the road. But still, it had been over three years, hadn’t it?

Three years since everything started.

We’d been through a lot here, one way or another. Looking back, I realized this place had taken root in me. The memories, the faces, even the quiet of the mornings had all become familiar and comforting. It was a second home.

“It’s time,” I murmured.

Lilith and I stepped into the front hall, our travel-worn packs slung over our shoulders and both of us ready to go. We paused just before the door, letting the stillness settle around us for a moment. Then, in unspoken agreement, we turned back to face the interior one last time, offering a bow of gratitude and a quiet farewell. I reached for the handle and opened the door.

What greeted us made me laugh under my breath.

Even after the chaos of last night’s send-off—a riotous farewell banquet at the Dragon King’s palace, overflowing with food, drink, and enough revelry to shame a royal court—two figures still had shown up at our doorstep like clockwork. Reliable to a fault.

The first was unmistakable: the Dragon King himself, resplendent and ever the host.

And the second, the Red Dragon who had once brought me to this very place, and in doing so, changed everything.

“Hey, old man!” I called, half-grinning.

He sighed, already exasperated. “Honestly, will you ever learn to speak properly? I could’ve sworn you were at least trying to be polite when we first met…”

It wasn’t my fault. I’d always been bad at this sort of thing. Even back in Japan, I couldn’t shake the habit, no matter how often I got scolded for it. Sure, I could fake politeness when necessary, but it never lasted long, especially with someone like him.

His face twisted into a frown for a heartbeat before softening into something far more fragile: a wrinkled smile and eyes brimming with emotion.

“You’d better come back,” he said, voice low and trembling.

I met his gaze steadily. “This place ended up feeling like a second home. I will come back. No matter what.”

He stepped forward and pulled me into a tight embrace. His arms clung to me like I might vanish the moment he let go. I didn’t hesitate to return it, gripping him just as fiercely.

Then, the Dragon King’s voice drifted in from beside us gravely.

“So you’re really going?”

I turned toward him. “What, having second thoughts now?”

“There’s something I should say while I still have the chance.” His tone was unreadable, somewhere between resignation and warning. “Even if humanity finds itself on the brink of ruin…”

“On the brink?”

“It still won’t concern us dragons. We’ll remain untouched and uninvolved. If I’m being honest, I’d rather you stayed here. You’re… a fascinating creature to watch, Ryuto. I never get bored of you.”

A dry laugh escaped my lips. “You know better than anyone there’s no point trying to stop me,” I said, my voice firm but calm. “Cordelia’s surrounded by forces even she might not be able to handle. We’ve all felt that great calamity looming, and if it’s coming for her, then of course I have to be there. And besides, this second life of mine still has chapters left to live. I haven’t seen what comes next yet. That’s why I’m enrolling at the Magic Academy. I need to be by her side, ready for whatever’s coming.”

The Dragon King let out a slow breath and offered a rueful smile, his shoulders rising in a small shrug. “In that case… Lilith?”

Her name hung in the air like a bell struck in silence.

Lilith blinked, visibly startled. “D-Dragon King…? You’re… calling me? Someone like me, who’s just Ryuto’s assistant? You’re… directly speaking to me…?”

The Dragon King nodded gently. “You shouldn’t look down on yourself so much, Lilith. You’ve grown stronger, much stronger. In fact, outside of myself, you’re easily one of the most formidable beings in this entire domain. You really are.”

Lilith stood stiffly, uncertain how to respond. “Then, I suppose the most appropriate thing to say here is… I’m honored?”

The Dragon King chuckled at her awkward formality, his smile deepening. “Why not stay here, just you? You’re a gifted scholar, a skilled magician, and a battle-hardened warrior. And truthfully, I’d love to have a tea-drinking companion who isn’t a dragon for once.”

Lilith hesitated, her lips curving into a shy smile.

“That’s… incredibly flattering, but…”

“But?”

Her voice lowered, filled with affection and a fierceness beneath the surface.

“I can’t let Ryuto go off alone… not when that thieving cat of a girl hero is waiting for him.”

At that, both the Dragon King and the old man burst into laughter. It wasn’t just a chuckle but full-bellied, uncontrollable laughter, as if a dam had broken.

“Haha… Ah, Ryuto,” the Dragon King wheezed between laughs, “you’ve really got your hands full, don’t you?”

A dozen emotions churned in my chest, but in the end, I could only sigh and mutter, “Honestly, I never know what to do with Lilith.”

The Dragon King wiped a tear from his eye. “I can imagine. She’s become essential to you, both in battle and outside it. Without her, you’d be at a loss when it comes to activating certain high-level enchantments or nullifying jinxes. Well, in many ways, you have my sympathies.”

“And let’s not forget,” I added with a groan, “my childhood friend’s got a pretty intense personality, too.”

The Dragon King laughed again, clearly delighted. “Sounds like quite the adventure already.”

Still smiling, he stepped forward and extended his right hand to me. I took it, and we clasped each other’s hands tightly.

“Come back safe, Ryuto,” the Dragon King said, his voice lower now, weighted with sincerity. “I’d like to meet this childhood friend of yours someday.”

I couldn’t help but laugh under my breath. “Cordelia probably won’t say no. Assuming Lilith gives her the green light to tag along.”

The Dragon King’s lips curled into a grin. “A man ranked among the strongest in the world, utterly helpless when it comes to women. Pure comedy gold.”

“Yeah, laugh it up.”

For a moment, neither of us spoke. Silence settled between us and then over the whole group. Even Lilith and the old man fell quiet.

A breeze stirred, rustling the air like a passing thought.

I turned slightly. “Ready, Lilith?”

“Mm.”

The moment I stepped forward, I felt a familiar tug at my coat. Lilith had pinched the hem of my jacket between her fingers, just as she always did. Whenever we went outside, she’d often trail behind me, holding onto my sleeve or the edge of my coat, rarely walking at my side. I’d tried more than once to get her to stop, but in the end, I’d mostly given up.

Without turning around, I raised a hand behind me in farewell and spoke over my shoulder.

“Dragon King? Old man? Watch the skies when the trial at the Gate of Ascension begins. I’m gonna light up the world with something unforgettable.”

And with that, I strode forward—Lilith in tow—without looking back, toward the edge of the Dragon’s Domain.

※※※

Roughly thirty minutes later, the Dragon King and the Red Dragon were enjoying tea in the garden beside the Grand Archive.

It was a quiet, refined kind of ritual, the sort of moment for only when the air felt too heavy to ignore. After all, Ryuto had made it clear before he left: “Keep your eyes on the Gate of Ascension.” That wasn’t the sort of warning you just shrugged off.

“He came like the wind,” the Red Dragon murmured, pouring tea with steady hands, “and vanished like a storm.”

The Dragon King smiled faintly, eyes distant. “He’s a drifter, without roots anywhere. He even left his own world behind. I suppose it’s only natural.”

The Red Dragon chuckled. “Can’t argue with that. But tell me, are you really planning to pass the title of Dragon King to him someday?”

The Dragon King took a moment to reflect, then raised his cup and sipped from the herbal tea.

“Half of it is about giving him a reason to come back,” he said softly. “A place to belong. Naming him as the next Dragon King… Well, it’s my way of saying he should return every now and then. Even if it’s just to share a cup of tea.”

The Red Dragon tilted his head. “And the other half?”

“If I name him my successor, it creates a thread between us, an obligation, whether he accepts or not. Sooner or later, he’ll have to come back and deal with it. It ensures we’ll cross paths again.”

“I see…”

The Dragon King gave a faint nod, then smiled. “But the other half is simple. I truly believe he’s worthy. The potential is there. After all, he beat me in the Dragonkind Grand Tournament.”

“The one two years ago? With all due respect, Your Majesty, weren’t you holding back during that match? Even from the sidelines, it was obvious. Nobody truly believed that meant Ryuto would be the next Dragon King.”

Without even a hint of guilt, the Dragon King nodded.

“Of course, I was holding back,” he admitted plainly. Then, after a brief pause, he added, “But that was when he was fourteen.”

The sudden seriousness in his voice made the Red Dragon pause. His eyes narrowed, breath hitching slightly.

“And now?” he asked.

The Dragon King shrugged, setting his cup down gently.

“Who knows? If I faced the current him, the outcome might not be so clear. Honestly, I couldn’t say.” He leaned back slightly, his smile returning. “But there’s one thing I do know—he’s only sixteen. And the path ahead of him is limitless.”

The Red Dragon exhaled, half-exasperated. “Speaking of which… The Gate of Ascension. That’s the one set at the boundary between this domain and the outside world, yes?”

“That’s right,” the Dragon King replied, amused. “An enormous gate forged from orichalcum. One of the remaining OOPArts—relics from the age when the ancient dragons walled off this entire domain.”

“Most of the wall’s long since crumbled, hasn’t it?” the Red Dragon said. “Now, only the gate remains. It stands there by the roadside, untouched and uncorroded…”

The Dragon King’s smile deepened with a glimmer of anticipation.

“The way I explained it to Ryuto,” the Dragon King began, sipping his tea with a casual air, “is that the Gate of Ascension serves as a kind of final trial for any human wishing to leave this domain. The gate is sealed tight. One must literally destroy it to break through. If someone can do that, it proves they’ve earned the right to leave of their own will, truly and freely.”

He smiled faintly, eyes glinting. “But the challenge itself doesn’t bind the challenger. If they succeed and want to leave, they’re free to go. If they fail and recognize their weakness, they can always turn back.”

The Red Dragon looked at him with furrowed brows. “Dragon King?”

“Hm?”

“Could you break the orichalcum gate yourself?”

“That’s a tricky question,” he mused, his tone light. “Let’s just say it’s one of those things passed down from Dragon King to Dragon King.”

“A tradition?”

The Dragon King laughed softly, the sound carrying years of fond mischief and quiet amusement.

“To date, only around thirty humans have ever left this domain. Of those, maybe twenty earned the title of ‘hero.’ Each of them was told about the Gate, and every single one chose to challenge it.”

“But none succeeded, I assume?”

“Not a single one,” he said with a smirk. “And to be perfectly honest, the dragons don’t really want those we’ve accepted to leave. We’re hungry for strength, sure, but we’re also a sentimental race. Once we’ve recognized someone as one of our own, it hurts to let them go.”

“I can understand that feeling.”

“The test at the Gate is a filter. If someone fails and turns back, fine. We embrace them again. And if they fail but still leave, they carry that failure with them. That weight, that guilt, keeps the memory of this place alive in their hearts.”

“Guilt?” the Red Dragon echoed softly.

“They didn’t leave through the proper channel. Not truly. And so, the Dragon’s Domain leaves its mark. One that never disappears.”

“And that means?”

“It means,” the Dragon King said, smiling knowingly, “they’ll never forget us. And someday, they’re likely to return. And when they do… we get to throw a grand welcome back feast and drink ourselves into oblivion.”

“I see,” the Red Dragon murmured, nodding slowly.

The Dragon King leaned back, the playful glint never leaving his eyes. “Though, if it’s Ryuto we’re talking about, there’s a chance he might actually manage it. He might just shatter that orichalcum lock wide open.”

And then it happened.

A blinding flash tore across the sky above the Dragon’s Domain, followed instantly by the deafening roar of an explosion that shook the very air. A shockwave thundered out in all directions, kicking up a whirlwind of dust and wind that swept through the garden like a sandstorm. The Dragon King stood frozen, speechless.

Roughly two kilometers ahead, suspended in midair, the detonation had erupted two hundred meters directly above the Gate of Ascension.

There, glittering in the spring sunlight, fragments of orichalcum—an ancient, magic-forged metal—danced through the sky. Countless shards of rainbow-colored debris scattered outward, sparkling as they fell.

It looked like fireworks, blooming silently across the midday sky.

“Remarkable,” the Dragon King murmured. “He didn’t just break the lock. He obliterated the entire gate.”

“Yes,” the Red Dragon said with a smile. “One enormous daylight firework.”

They exchanged a glance, and both grinned knowingly.

“That flash earlier was the skill Villager’s Wrath, wasn’t it? And that pressure, the aura of combat arts and the malice of forbidden magic, suggests even he had to go all out to destroy it.”

“Even so, it’s still hard to believe that he could pulverize orichalcum with nothing but raw strength,” the Red Dragon admitted.

The Dragon King let out a low laugh. “No doubt about it. You really did stumble upon a once-in-a-generation prodigy.”

“They say he’s the strongest Villager in the world.”

“The strongest Villager, huh?” The Dragon King’s smile turned wistful. “Then… let me thank you for introducing me to Ryuto Maclaine.”

“I did nothing,” the Red Dragon replied quietly. “Everything was Ryuto’s doing.”

And so, the two of them stood together, facing the direction of that shimmering sky, toward the drifting rainbow dust and the falling orichalcum fragments, following the path Ryuto had carved.

They raised their hands and waved.

And for a little while, they kept waving.

Chapter 1: Entrance Exam

“Name?”

“Ryuto Maclaine.”

“Job class?”

“Villager.”

“How well can you use magic?”

“Just basic Life Magic.”

The bearded man in white robes gave a long, deliberate nod, then smiled.

“Rejected.”

The training grounds of Altena Magic Academy were packed shoulder to shoulder with applicants. According to what I’d heard, this year’s acceptance rate was about one in thirty-five, which meant tough odds, even by elite standards.

But then again, graduating from a magic academy meant you were set for life. In this world, it was a golden ticket, somewhere between being a doctor and a lawyer back in Japan. A cheat code in profession form.

Even if you ended up working as an adventurer, having a diploma from a recognized magic academy guaranteed a minimum wage of five silver coins a day. For context, in this world’s currency, one gold coin was worth about a million yen, one large silver coin about a hundred thousand, and a single silver coin was roughly ten thousand yen. So, five silver a day meant you were clearing fifty thousand yen daily. For temp work.

Back in Japan, I’d heard rumors that doctors doing part-time gigs could earn over ten thousand yen an hour. So, it made sense in a way. Rare qualifications ruled the economy in both worlds.

Which was why this ground was now a seething mass of ambition, desperation, and gleaming eyes. Students were practically vibrating with dreams, hope, and a fair bit of greed.

And me? I’d been turned down before I even set foot in the examination hall.

“Hey, hold on a second,” I protested.

“Nope. You’ve got zero chance of passing. The exam fee’s five silver, deliberately expensive to scare off people like you. Take my advice: go home.”

The exam itself was in three stages, but the first one was brutally straightforward: each applicant had to unleash their strongest attack spell at a specially reinforced target set up in the academy’s training grounds. The targets were magically coated to resist damage, but if you couldn’t destroy one, you didn’t stand a chance.

Efficient and ruthless, it was the perfect filter.

“Go home,” the bearded examiner snapped again.

“Like hell I’m just gonna leave.”

“No one with the job class of Villager has ever passed this exam. And you said yourself that you can only use basic Life Magic. How do you expect to get through?”

“Well, it’s not just Life Magic.”

The examiner narrowed his eyes. “Villagers only get Life Magic. That’s the whole point.”

“Yeah, technically. But what I use… It’s not exactly magic. More like… something else entirely.”

Senjutsu.

An ancient, forbidden art from a world that shouldn’t exist in this one. Power that once ranked above all other forms of magic, capable of distorting the balance of the world itself. Honestly, if I actually used it here, on this test ground, it’d be a disaster. Even at minimum output, a destructive senjutsu attack could blow straight through the target and into the academy building behind it.

But if I stuck to regular Life Magic, one that didn’t rely on mana output, I’d never break the target at all.

So, what the hell was I supposed to do?

“Last warning. Go home,” the examiner repeated.

Yeah, no. I couldn’t just turn around and leave.

“What are you standing around for?” he barked. “You said you’ve only got Life Magic. Get lost already.”

And then, from the side, a voice called out. Not to me, but to Lilith.

“Hey. You there, girl.”

A boy strode forward, clad in gleaming silver armor, the kind of high-grade magical equipment favored by Spellblades. He looked around our age, maybe sixteen. He could have been just another examinee, but something about him felt off; he was too polished, too well-guarded. Five knights stood behind him, all of them clearly seasoned and armed.

That wasn’t normal. Students from noble families usually bought their way in through special admission, so they didn’t need to sit these exams.

A scholarship student, maybe? But then, why bring an escort unit?

Whatever his deal was, he ignored me entirely and marched straight toward Lilith with confident, entitled steps.

The boy reached out and grabbed Lilith’s shoulder. “Damn, didn’t think I’d run into such a knockout on my first day here. And you’re a fellow applicant, right?”

“Let go. Don’t touch me so casually,” Lilith said flatly, her brow furrowing in open disgust.

But the Spellblade ignored her entirely, nodding to himself with smug satisfaction. Judging from his earlier remark about “first day,” he was clearly part of the special admission track, one already accepted before the exams even began.

“Looks like luck’s on my side,” he said, clapping his hands together with theatrical flair. “I’ve got an offer for you, sweetheart. How about I buy your way in? You can pass easily. All you have to do is become my woman.”

His hand slid along her cheek as he grinned, a sleazy, oily grin that made my skin crawl.

Lilith’s expression froze, blank with disbelief. Misreading her stunned silence entirely, the bastard actually chuckled.

“Oh? Speechless, are we? Can’t even thank me for the sudden stroke of good fortune? Heh… Trust me, this is a bigger deal than you think. I’m no ordinary noble brat. I’m the nephew of His Majesty, the King of Fasiria!”

Then, as if that declaration somehow gave him permission, he reached behind her and grabbed her ass with an audible squeeze.

“She’s pretty slender… Not much meat on her. Eh, not the best feel, but with a face like that, I’ve got no complaints.”

Lilith froze completely, processing the sheer audacity of what had just happened. Then, slowly, her expression shifted—first to cold recognition, then to pure, razor-edged fury. Her eyes locked on him, sharp and bright.

“Disgusting. Hey, Ryuto?”

“Yeah?”

“Mind if I kill this trash?”

I let out a slow, exhausted sigh.

Yeah, this guy was disgusting. Even I found myself clenching a fist.

“You could kill him anytime, really. But not here. Not now. Don’t give them a reason to single us out. Just endure it.”

Lilith stared at me for a long moment, then gave a small, silent nod.

“If you say so, then fine,” Lilith said quietly. “I’ll behave. But I’m still upset, so I have one request, Ryuto.”

“Huh? What is it?”

“Later, after I’ve done my best to hold back, I want you to pat my head.”

“Oh. Uh… yeah, sure.”

At that, Lilith’s expression bloomed into a radiant smile, so bright it could’ve outshone the sun. She nodded cheerfully, content with the promise.

“Right,” I said, turning back to the armored punk. “You said you’re the king’s nephew, right? Think you could kindly take your hands off my friend?”

The moment I said friend, Lilith’s smile cracked. She stiffened, her brows twitching into a subtle grimace.

“Not someone important to you, huh? Just a friend?”

“Yeah. That’s right.”

Her cheeks puffed out in obvious protest, her eyes narrowing in frustration.

The Spellblade, watching our exchange with an amused sneer, stepped forward, his voice laced with mockery.

“Ah, I see. So you two are close. Childhood friends, perhaps? Same hometown? Doesn’t matter. A girl like her doesn’t belong at the side of trash like you, a mere Villager.”

I felt irritation prickling at the edges of my patience. My voice rose without thinking.

“Choosing your friends has nothing to do with class or status. Doesn’t matter if I’m a Villager or a damn king. That’s not your call to make.”

The Spellblade snorted through his nose, clearly unimpressed. “Only the powerful deserve to stand beside beauty. Whether it’s wealth, status, or raw strength, it must be earned. A worthless nobody who fails the first trial of the entrance exam has no business standing next to someone like her.”

I ignored him and turned back toward the examiner.

“Hey, old man. You’re the proctor for this round, right?”

“For the first stage, yes,” the bearded man replied.

I pointed toward the row of targets lined up about fifty meters away on the training field, each one a circular slab, much like those used at a shooting range.

“So, all I need to do is destroy one of those using magic or whatever power I’ve got, right?”

The examiner gave a firm nod.

The rules were simple: stand exactly twenty meters from the target, then use your strongest offensive spell to destroy it. That was it.

“Destroying the target with ranged magic from the designated position is the sole and absolute condition for passing the first round,” the examiner confirmed.

With that, I gave a satisfied nod. That was all I needed to hear.

Of course, the armored jackass couldn’t resist chiming in from the side.

“Not that it matters,” he sneered, “a Villager could never pull it off. This isn’t the kind of test you pass with Life Magic.”

I ignored him. Because just a moment ago, I’d seen something interesting. One applicant had thrown a rock—about the size of a fist—from the required distance. Then, mid-flight, they had used a wind spell to accelerate it. The boosted projectile struck the target with enough force to shatter it, and that counted as a pass.

If that works, then so will this.

I raised my right hand and activated a physical enhancement technique, one of the combat arts I wasn’t supposed to have. Wind howled around me as I gathered momentum. Then, with a sharp whoosh, I brought my hand down in a knife-hand strike, faster than sound.

At the same time, I tacked on a little breeze, just enough to qualify as Life Magic.

“There. Is that good enough for you?”

Fifty meters ahead, the target split clean down the middle and collapsed to the ground in two perfect halves.

Gasps erupted across the training grounds.

【Vacuum Slash】

It was a martial technique, a mid-range attack commonly used in advanced hand-to-hand combat. But the effect could also be mimicked through magic, particularly wind-element spells. Except in this case, I’d replicated it physically. No spell incantation, no magical output, just pure technique.

The Spellblade, who moments ago had watched with a smug expression, now stood frozen, his jaw slack and his eyes blank.

“That clean cut and that kind of power from this distance… Was that Gale Blade, a mid-tier wind spell?! That’s not something any ordinary examinee could use! Hell, even the scholarship students would struggle with it! How could a Villager use magic like that? How is that even—?!” The Spellblade’s voice cracked in disbelief, his smug expression now twisted in confusion and denial.

Even the examiner, still frozen, was opening and closing his mouth like a fish out of water. Words completely failed him.

Not that I blamed them. They’d clearly underestimated me, written me off the moment I said Villager. Not that I cared. It wasn’t magic anyway, just a clean, ranged strike using pure technique.

I don’t even know what Gale Blade is, I thought, suppressing a shrug.

“So?” I asked, turning toward the examiner. “What’s the verdict, Mr. Proctor?”

The man finally managed to speak, though his voice was barely steady.

“All criteria… met. No objections. You’ve passed the first trial.”

※※※

The second exam was a straightforward affair: testing mana and magic power.

You’d think this would be the first trial, right? But as it turned out, that wasn’t how it worked. Having mana didn’t mean you knew how to use it. Plenty of muscleheads had high reserves but no real skill. And since it was also necessary for close combat enhancements, they needed a way to weed out the talentless early.

So, the first test focused on magical aptitude and practical application.

The second? Just touch a crystal ball lined up on the field and let it read your stats. Easy.

Graduates from the Academy typically moved on to adventuring guilds, military units, or arcane research institutions. And in that bloody, cutthroat world, status info was life-and-death. Literally.

Which was why, in this world, personal stats were considered top-secret data.

Naturally, the Academy’s measurement system was… well, deliberately indirect.

“Hey, sweethea— Er, Lilith-chan? Check this out,” the Spellblade said, still wearing a smug grin as he pressed his hand to one of the crystals.

A flickering flame shimmered to life inside it.

The crystal orb was only about ten centimeters in diameter. Inside, a tiny flame flickered—barely two centimeters tall, maybe a centimeter wide. The kind you’d see on a votive candle in a Japanese altar. It was delicate and unimpressive.

“Lilith-chan, see this?” the Spellblade said, practically puffing his chest. “These crystals react to magical power. If your mana and magic level aren’t high enough, they don’t respond at all. But mine? See that flame? That’s a real flame. That means something.”

To his credit, he wasn’t wrong. From what I’d seen, even a faint glow inside the orb was enough to earn a pass. No flame meant failure. This guy’s crystal had sparked a flame—barely, but still.

“And yeah, I’m a special admit,” he went on, basking in his own voice. “Because I’m a noble. But that also means I’ve got the talent to match. Bloodlines don’t lie. I earned my spot.”

“Okay,” I said, “but what exactly is your point?”

He’d been chasing Lilith around since the moment we stepped onto the grounds. Honestly, calling him obnoxious didn’t cut it. He was a mosquito in silver-plated armor.

“I’m saying I’m serious about her!” he declared proudly. “So what if I’m persistent? I’m in love with Lilith-chan! I’ve got every right to try and win her over!”

“Hey, Ryuto?” Lilith asked sweetly, though her eyes were cold steel.

“Yeah?”

“Are you sure I can’t kill him?”

Her smile was angelic. Her tone was pure sugar. Her aura? Absolutely murderous.

I sighed, rubbing my temples. “Still no, Lilith. I said no.”

The Spellblade turned to glare at me, face flushed. “And for the record, I don’t accept that spell you used earlier. No way a lowly Villager like you could cast a mid-tier wind spell like Gale Blade. You cheated! You had to have used a trick! Some kind of deception!”

That alone told me everything I needed to know. If he couldn’t even recognize that what I used wasn’t magic at all but a martial technique, then his ceiling was already showing.

Ignoring his rant, Lilith turned to me, voice cool and composed.

“Ryuto… May I take the test now?”

“Yeah. Go ahead,” I said with a nod.

She shot one final glare at the Spellblade, then spoke in a voice as sharp as a dagger’s edge.

“You’re in the way. Take your hand off the crystal.”

The Spellblade let out a slow, oily grin at Lilith’s words.

“The pass rate for the second exam is only one in four,” he said smugly. “If your flame doesn’t show up… Well, I’ll buy your way through. You just have to become mine, got it?”

Lilith didn’t even blink. She cast him a single, icy glance before calmly placing her hand on the crystal orb.

The reaction was immediate.

“W-Wh… WHAT?!”

The arrogant noble all but shrieked, stumbling back with a stunned expression.

“No way! No freaking way! That’s impossible!”

His shout drew attention fast. The second-round proctor rushed over, alarmed by the commotion. When he reached the crystal and saw what was happening inside, his eyes went wide with disbelief.

“What…?! The entire interior… It’s completely engulfed in flame? Not just flickering, it’s pushing against the walls like it’s about to burst out. This level of magical output… To create this much fire within the crystal… The only other student who’s managed anything close is Cordelia Allston, the incoming top of the year…” He trailed off in awe, then forced himself to speak again. “You pass. Without a doubt. In fact, depending on your performance in the third test, you might even qualify for the scholarship course. A special exception.”

Lilith turned to me, voice calm as ever.

“Ryuto?”

“Yeah?”

“This crystal is too limited. I think what we’re seeing is the upper limit of the measurement cap. The flame filled the orb entirely. There’s no way I actually have the same mana or magic power as Cordelia Allston. I’m a spellcaster, not a close-range brawler. But still, those numbers shouldn’t be identical.”

“Yeah, makes sense. It’s like a bathroom scale that only goes up to a hundred kilos. Whether you weigh 110 or 300, it’ll just say 100.”

“This is my first time realizing, but being underestimated is deeply unpleasant.”

I shrugged, half amused. “Pretty sure the examiner meant it as praise, you know? Saying you’re on Cordelia’s level?”

Lilith tilted her head, genuinely puzzled.

I gave her a helpless smile. Being compared to the Hero was supposed to be the highest kind of compliment. In a way, it really was praise. But we’d grown up in a very, very different world. Explaining all that to Lilith would’ve been a headache, so I let it go.

“Mind if I take the second test now?”

As she lifted her hand, the roaring flame inside the crystal orb vanished instantly, snuffed out like a candle in a storm.

I stepped forward and pressed my palm to the crystal.

The highest possible result was simple: fill the orb with fire. That was the upper limit, the absolute maximum the device could register. If that was what Lilith had achieved, then logically, my result should be the same.

That was when something unexpected happened.

Shff-pfft.

“Hot—!” I flinched, yanking my hand away on reflex. The surface of the orb had suddenly flared with heat.

Around me, people were already reacting. I heard gasps, shifting feet. And when they looked at the crystal, the murmurs turned to uproar.

Crack.

Fine fractures, hairline and spreading fast, had begun to etch their way across the orb’s surface. It was reacting not just strongly, but violently. Then, as if someone had doused it in gasoline and struck a match, the crystal ignited.

Not just glowing. It was burning.

Roaring flames erupted from within, licking outward as if the orb had lost all intention of containment. Heat surged off it in waves.

The crowd around me broke into full-blown chaos, startled voices rising all at once.

I stared forward in silence.

The second exam proctor was gaping like a goldfish, his mouth opening and closing, but no words coming out.

Still quiet, I slowly turned to look to my right. The noble brat—the Spellblade from earlier—was just as stunned as the examiner. Mouth open, jaw slack, completely incapable of processing what he was seeing.

To my left, I glanced over at Lilith. She gave a proud nod, puffing out her modest chest in silent satisfaction as if she’d just won a national award.

“Dammit…” I muttered under my breath.

I dragged a hand down my face, groaning internally. I was trying not to stand out…

Too late for that now.

Before I could even exhale in frustration, the noble brat erupted in a shout.

“What the hell is this?! What even is this?! That’s impossible! I’ve never heard of a fire-based status-measuring orb bursting into flames! That’s not a thing! This isn’t a thing!”

He turned to the examiner, demanding answers.

And then Lilith spoke, softly but with absolute clarity.

“Of course you haven’t. Because it’s never happened. No one from the surface world has ever tried to measure someone who belongs among the true strongest of humanity. The premise itself is flawed.”

The brat lost it. He lunged forward, grabbing me by the collar.

“You think this is funny?! I said it’s impossible! I’m a noble, dammit! If I say this stinks, it stinks! Who the hell do you think you are, pulling this crap?! That first trial of yours was suspicious as hell, and now you’ve got the crystal catching fire?! What kind of trick are you playing?!”

“Trick?” I echoed with a shrug. “Not sure what to tell you, man…”

My voice was calm and detached. Which only seemed to make him angrier.

The Spellblade turned on the examiner now, shouting loud enough for half the field to hear.

“Hey! What’s the result?! You’re seriously going to count that?!”

The proctor was quiet for a moment, visibly thinking it over. Then he let out a long breath and spoke clearly and decisively.

“The pass criteria is simple: the candidate touches the crystal, and a visible flame manifests. That’s it. This… may have been a device malfunction. It’s possible. But if it was, that’s our fault as exam administrators. Either way…” He looked at me, eyes full of reluctant awe. “It counts. He passes.”

“This is bullcrap!” the noble brat exploded. “You’ve gotta be kidding me! This guy’s clearly a fraud! A scam artist pretending to be some backwater Villager. There’s no way I’m sharing a classroom with garbage like him!”

Still fuming, he rounded on the proctor, practically foaming at the mouth. Honestly, he was like a rabid piranha.

I stood there watching the whole meltdown with growing secondhand embarrassment.

“He hasn’t even passed the final test yet,” the proctor replied, voice calm but firm. “And even if he had, exam results are none of your concern. Whether you’re royalty or not, once enrolled at this academy, you are a student. Nothing more.”

Well said, I thought. Unlike the noble brat, this guy actually seemed like he had a functioning brain.

The boy clenched his fists, teeth grinding audibly, and stomped the ground with a frustrated snarl. Yes… literally stomped. Like a child denied a toy. And this kid was sixteen.

I stared, aghast. Is he seriously throwing a tantrum right now?

But then, just when I thought we’d hit rock bottom, he took it one level lower.

“‘Just a student,’ huh?” he sneered. “You some academy staffer or something? Because that little statement of yours just now? That’s treason, buddy. Maybe I should let my dear uncle, His Majesty the King of Fasiria, know that you made me, his nephew, uncomfortable.”

He clapped his hands together, eyes gleaming with malicious glee.

“Actually, I’ve got a better idea. I’ll tell him you abused your position to harass me. Gave me unfair treatment. Let’s say… you bullied a poor, innocent noble like me. I’ll tell him everything. True or not. You’d be amazed at how many people I’ve had demoted or worse, doing just that. Some ended up in prison. Others just… disappeared. This is gonna be fun.”

What?

Lilith and I weren’t the only ones stunned into silence. Even the examiner looked like someone had slapped him in the face.

Is this guy for real? It wasn’t just underhanded, it was incredibly vile. The kind of behavior that made your skin crawl. Is this guy really royalty?

For the first time, I found myself seriously worried for the Kingdom of Fasiria.

“Now, hold on just a—”

Even the proctor, who had remained mostly composed until now, looked visibly appalled. His brows twisted into a weary frown as he sighed heavily, clearly thinking, What a mess. Just had to get tangled up with this kind of brat…

That’s when I decided to throw him a lifeline.

“Hey. Spellblade.”

The noble brat turned with an annoyed grunt. “Huh? What now?”

“I get it. You really, really don’t want me setting foot in this academy, right?”

“Damn right. Just imagining sitting in the same classroom as a Villager makes my skin crawl!”

“Then how about this,” I said, clapping my hands together.

He tilted his head, wary but intrigued.

“Go on?”

“The third trial is a live-combat exam, right? One-on-one mock battles between applicants?”

“That’s how it’s usually done, yeah.”

“Then, how about we make it interesting? A special exhibition match: me, the lowly Villager, borrowing the chest of the great noble Spellblade for a real fight. No hard feelings, no complaints, no matter who gets flattened.”

The moment I said it, he lit up. “You’re on!”

And just like that, we were relocated to the center of the Altena Magic Academy’s main training ground.

Word had spread fast about an exhibition match between a special-admission noble and a general applicant. The stands filled with students, staff, and spectators eager for bloodsport. Not ideal. I hated standing out like this, but the guy had already pushed too many buttons.

“Hey, Villager?” he called across the field.

“It’s Ryuto,” I replied evenly.

“Huh?”

His brow furrowed. He didn’t get it.

I let just a trace of anger slip into my voice as I spoke louder.

“My name is Ryuto Maclaine.”

“And?”

“Call me that. I’m not ‘Villager.’ I’m Ryuto.”

He gave a crooked grin, then nodded slowly.

“Fine. Ryuto, huh? You got it.”

Huh. That’s surprisingly cooperative of him.

In my mind, the spoiled brat’s rank rose slightly from rotting garbage to maybe recyclable plastic. Not much, but still a step up.

“And so, Villager,” he sneered, reclaiming the air of superiority.

Ah, there it is. The noble heritage showing through. Clearly, he hadn’t taken a single word I said seriously. Not that I expected him to.

“What now?” I asked flatly.

“I’m a Spellblade.”

“Yeah, I figured. That’s not battlefield gear you’re wearing. But even in that lighter set, your shoulder guards, chestplate, and sword are all top-tier enchanted equipment. One glance at the magic signatures tells me everything. You’re not just wearing it for show. You’ve got the mana to fully power it. I’m guessing you’ve got full control over both fire and ice, at the very least.”

“Oh?” His lips curled into a smirk. “Impressive. A Villager who actually knows what he’s looking at.”

Not that he had any clue what I was wearing. It might’ve looked like a worn-out outfit, but if someone were foolish enough to try appraising its true value, they’d be looking at something worth more than the annual budget of a major kingdom.

Not that it mattered.

“So?” I asked, brushing his ego aside. “What’s your point?”

“I placed top three in the Imperial Capital’s swordsmanship tournament. Under-sixteen division. That was without using magic. Pure technique.”

This was a prestigious academy, after all. If Cordelia, the Hero of the North, had chosen this place as her training ground, it had to be top-tier. Which meant this brat, as a scholarship student, probably did have real skill.

Didn’t change the fact that he was unbearable.

“You talk a lot. So what?” I said, already bored.

“I’ll give you a handicap.”

“A handicap?”

“I won’t use magic. Just swordplay. That’s all.”

He turned away from me and winked—not at me, but at Lilith.

“And after this Villager gets humiliated in front of everyone, you’ll forget about him and fall for me instead.”

Lilith’s face drained of color. Rage simmered just beneath her blank expression. “I’m getting chills.”

Lilith hunched her shoulders, her voice dry and low. She didn’t even bother hiding her disgust. It radiated from her in waves. That look in her eyes, as if something had just crawled out from under a rock, spoke volumes.

“Got it. A handicap, huh?” I said evenly. “Then I’ll return the favor. Show you a little kindness.”

“Kindness?” The noble brat blinked at me, genuinely puzzled.

I gave a slow nod. Then I raised my right hand and extended a single finger: my middle one.

“Yeah. Kindness. I won’t use a weapon. I’ll end this with just this finger.”

His brows drew together. “What the hell does that mean?”

“You’ll figure it out.”

At that moment, the proctor standing just outside the circle took a deep breath, readying his voice. Between us stretched about three meters of well-worn training ground. The noble raised his wooden mock sword, wrapped in impact-dampening material that made it resemble a sponge-lined bat.

Technically safe. Realistically? Not so much. People broke bones in these matches all the time.

Then the call came.

“Begin!”

He moved instantly and without hesitation.

He raised his blade in a wide overhead arc, his form clean and his grip tight, then brought it down in a savage, full-power strike aimed directly at my skull.

This was no schoolyard swing; it was a practiced technique, polished and powerful. The kid clearly had skill. Honestly, his swordsmanship probably surpassed where I was when I was twelve. And his weapon, while padded, was still solid wood underneath. Imagine a baseball bat wrapped in foam, then swung with the full strength of someone trained in martial combat. If that landed on an ordinary person’s head, they’d be out cold. Might even die.

But me?

I raised my hand casually. Just one finger.

“Hey.”

I pivoted my body to the side and slipped past the strike with effortless grace. At the same moment, the noble brat’s face contorted in stunned disbelief.

In contrast, I smiled calmly.

Then I brought my right hand up—middle finger pressed against my thumb, ready to flick.

My target? His chin.

Without using a shred of enhancement magic, no stat boosts or power-ups, I extended my hand with my natural, unmodified strength.

Snap.

A faint, almost comical pop rang out as my finger flicked upward and struck him square beneath the jaw.

He didn’t even react.

Honestly, he couldn’t have. I was too fast. I doubted he even saw my hand move, let alone the flick itself.

“Out of a hundred, I’d give you maybe a fifteen,” I said coolly. “Back in the Dragon’s Domain, you wouldn’t even be allowed to speak to me.”

“Wha—?” he managed, eyes unfocused.

And then, the boy crumpled.

He stood there, eyes rolled back and body rigid, until suddenly, like a puppet with its strings cut, he collapsed straight to the ground.

It was a clean concussion. My flick had rattled his jaw just enough to shake his brain loose inside his skull.

The crowd erupted.

It wasn’t surprising. After all, a general applicant had just flattened a special-admission noble in one hit. But as I looked around, I noticed something strange. The buzz of voices wasn’t focused on me. Instead, the crowd that had circled around moments ago was now parting, splitting down the middle like the Red Sea in a biblical tale.

And then—

“There you are, finallyyy!!!”

A scream cut through the chaos.

A red-haired girl came barreling toward me, sprinting with all her strength, gasping for breath.

Her hair was as striking as ever, resembling fire spun into silk. Seeing her again tugged a smile to my face, even before I realized I was doing it.

She was stunning, almost unearthly in her beauty, and the academy uniform suited her perfectly. Her long crimson hair flowed behind her as she skidded to a stop in front of me, eyes blazing with fury.

Cordelia Allston, my childhood friend, looked ready to murder someone as she shouted the first words of our long-overdue reunion.

“How many years? Where the hell have you been wandering, you idiot Ryuto?!”

Her voice cut through the crowd like a blade. Cordelia stood before me, an art piece come to life: alabaster skin glowing in the sunlight, crimson hair flickering like fire, and eyes as deep and blue as an untouched ocean. A masterpiece far more vivid than any painting hanging in a museum.

She’d been fifteen the last time I’d seen her, and now she was sixteen. No longer just a raw, unripe fruit, time had turned her into a beauty ripe to be savored. My breath caught; I couldn’t help but let out a soft sigh, struck by her perfection.

“How long has it been, anyway? You look really good, Cordelia.”

She blinked at me, her face a blend of shock and something softer. One moment, she stood fierce, emotion raging in her gaze. The next, her cheeks bloomed with color, bright as apples in spring light.

“Wait… Did you just call me… pretty?”

I nodded. “Yeah. Really.”

Her breath trembled. She leaned forward, eyes glossy. Then, she shook her head.

“So…”

“Hm?”

“I’m not… going to… fall for that… so easily!”’

She advanced on me with decisive steps until she stood directly in front of me. And then—

Smack.

A crisp slap echoed through the clearing. I barely had time to register it before the warmth blossomed on my cheek. Cordelia’s voice cracked with barely suppressed emotion, tears brimming in her eyes as she spoke.

“How long do you think this mess has gone on? Since the Demon Dragon incident?! You ran off on me. Do you have any idea how worried I’ve been? Do you have any clue how lonely I’ve been?”

The sting in my cheek still throbbed as I rubbed it, muttering under my breath. That one hurt a lot. She hadn’t held back. I was worth the effort.

“I get it. It’s been a long time, hasn’t it?” I managed, voice low.

She narrowed her eyes—not with anger, but sadness—and then struck me again, harder this time, right across the temple.

“You don’t get it! You don’t understand anything!” she cried, voice thick with tears.

I could only swallow. I honestly wasn’t sure what “not understanding” meant in her eyes.

Tears glistened in Cordelia’s eyes as she continued, voice shaking. “Do you have any idea how much I… wanted to see you? How lonely I was?”

Before I could find words, Lilith slipped between us calmly, her movements decisive.

Cordelia blinked, confusion warring with lingering fury. Lilith’s voice was measured yet firm.

“You and Ryuto are childhood friends. That’s right, yes?”

“Yeah, that’s right. But… wait. You’re the girl who showed up with Ryuto during the Evil Dragon Amanta incident?”

“That’s me,” Lilith confirmed with a gentle smile. “But right now, I need you to answer one question honestly.”

“Okay.” Cordelia wiped her eyes, still wounded but steady.

Lilith’s expression grew sharp, gentle but unyielding. “As someone who’s just a childhood friend, what gives you the right to act as if you’re his lover? Why are you allowed to accuse him when you haven’t seen him in all this time? You’re just hometown friends. Nothing more.”

Cordelia flushed, confusion clouding her gaze. “I—”

Lilith pressed on, voice clear but firm. “Just because you’re a Hero, don’t presume your childhood connection means more than it is.”

There was a long, heavy silence.

Cordelia drew a breath, defiance returning slowly to her stance. “I am Cordelia Allston. I carry the Oracular Gift of the Northern Hero. Who are you?”

“I am Lilith. No family name. A Mage,” she replied calmly.

“And you’re an applicant to this academy, right? Yet it feels like you believe Heroes are beneath you…”

Lilith’s mouth quirked, expression unflinching. “I do not look down on heroes.”

“But you did say ‘just a hero’ earlier, didn’t you?”

“I’ll correct that,” Lilith said, her voice cool as ice. “I didn’t say ‘just a hero.’ I meant to say ‘a brat who’s grown arrogant on her Hero’s class shouldn’t get carried away.’”

Cordelia’s brow furrowed. “So now you’re calling me a brat? Are you picking a fight?”

“I’m not picking a fight,” Lilith replied, steady as ever. “I’m stating the facts. If words don’t cut it, we can do an exhibition match, like what Ryuto and that noble did.”

Cordelia scoffed, arms crossed over her chest. “So, you’re initiating a fight now? Fine. Just don’t get hurt.”

She bent to retrieve the padded wooden sword the noble had dropped earlier. Her fingers curled around the hilt.

“Wait, Cordelia Allston.” Lilith’s voice was calm, but firm. “You might want to put that away. I’m sure we can talk this out.”

A triumphant glint sparkled in Cordelia’s eyes as she straightened, a small smile playing across her lips.

“So let me get this straight… You thought the Hero wouldn’t bother with a mere applicant, right? But, when I actually show I care, you back down? That’s pathetic.”

Lilith met her with a smile, but there was no warmth in her gaze.

“What are you trying to say?” Cordelia scoffed.

“Let go of the wooden sword. Draw the sacred blade gifted by your Oracular calling instead. Or are you too lowborn for that?”

A thread of blue veins pulsed across Cordelia’s temples, anger flaring visibly at Lilith’s challenge. Narrowing her eyes, she slowly shook her head.

Cordelia drew in a deep breath and forced a wide, polished smile that sent a chill down my spine. “Understood. I’ll carve your name into steel, as you wished.”

Her smile was flawless, but her eyes betrayed no warmth, only icy menace.

“Bow before the abyss of true magic.”

They sprinted toward the center circle of the training ground, determination etched on their faces.

Fifty meters above the field, Lilith hovered in midair, each hand unleashing flame orbs at blistering speed. Tens—no, hundreds—of fiery projectiles rained down, scorching the grass below. Smoke curled upward in black tendrils from every impact.

From the very start of the match, Lilith had resorted to flying magic, attacking from above in a relentless barrage.

“Come down, coward!” Cordelia shouted, picking up a rock roughly the size of a fist and hurling it skyward. Predictably, Lilith dodged effortlessly, the rock passing harmlessly beneath her.

“I refuse to fight her on her terms,” Lilith observed coolly. Then she sent another volley of flame orbs straight downward.

Cordelia raised her blade, the Oracular Sacred Sword, and struck the incoming fire from midair.

That blade was a miracle in itself, capable of dispelling magic simply by touch. With each strike, Cordelia deflected the onslaught, her blade cutting through flame after flame without difficulty.

It was a stalemate. Neither could land a decisive blow. Lilith’s magic couldn’t reach Cordelia, and Cordelia’s sword couldn’t force Lilith to the ground.

I watched from the sidelines, waiting to see how this clash would resolve. My attention sharpened when I heard voices from the onlookers.

“What in the world… That’s mid-tier magic fired like rain! This isn’t a student… She’s something else entirely.”

“Different level altogether.”

“It’s like watching a grand tournament in the imperial capital. Is this really happening, or am I dreaming?”

The muttering among the students was one thing, but even the instructors looked shell-shocked.

“I understand it from the Hero, since Cordelia’s performance is expected. But that Mage is clearly an anomaly. To sustain that many mid-tier spells and continuous flight magic for this long… How hasn’t her mana run dry?”

Flight magic wasn’t meant for prolonged use. In most cases, it was a short-term spell, reserved for emergency dodges or narrow escapes. Its mana drain was extreme. The average mage would burn out in under twenty seconds of airtime.

That was why Lilith’s current strategy, an endless magical bombardment from the skies, was practically unheard of. It wasn’t that such a tactic didn’t exist, but it was considered a gamble, used only when you were absolutely certain you could finish the enemy instantly.

Well, there was a reason she could pull it off.

Lilith and I have… history.

To put it simply, when she was near me, her mana didn’t deplete. Not really. It was like I became a living mana battery, feeding her reserves with my own bottomless pool. In exchange, I got access to her absurdly optimized mage-brain whenever I needed help launching high-tier or forbidden techniques. Symbiosis. Mutual benefit. Whatever you wanted to call it.

Down below, Cordelia clicked her tongue in frustration.

“Tch. This is getting us nowhere.” She raked her fingers through her crimson hair, then leveled a glare at the sky. “Guess I’ll just have to stop holding back, won’t I?”

Her deep blue eyes flashed, then shifted, blazing into a fiery crimson like molten metal at the heart of a forge. In the next instant, her entire body was wrapped in a glowing red aura, shimmering with raw power.

“In case I go overboard, sorry in advance,” she said sweetly, flexing her sword hand.

I already knew she could control her mana overdrive. It was the reason she’d earned the title Hero in the first place.

Still, I called out. “She’s fifty meters up. You got a plan?”

Cordelia didn’t even look at me. “Of course I do.”

With that, she bent her knees low, like a coiled spring.

And then, she shouted.

“Up we gooooooo!”

What shocked Lilith most was how swiftly Cordelia closed the distance she had assumed was safe.

Using pure leg strength, the Hero had leapt a full twenty meters into the air, straight into Lilith’s domain. One swift arc of the gleaming sacred blade followed, slashing the hem of Lilith’s robe and grazing her exposed skin. While no blood spurted—just a crimson smear—it was clear this was no casual attack.

Cordelia, following the natural descent back to earth, landed gracefully and bent her knees once more. Then she raised her voice.

“One more time!”

That strike shattered the deadlock. Cordelia now had the upper hand—only she was capable of landing a meaningful blow. But just as Cordelia prepared to strike again, her expression twisted in disbelief.

Then, I felt a sudden, pounding headache, not from physical stress, but from sheer disbelief.

“We said not to use anything above mid-tier magic because we’d stand out, you idiot,” I muttered.

Cordelia’s eyes darted upward, voice catching in a half-scream. “What is this mana?! It’s unreal! Impossible… This shouldn’t be possible!”

In the sky above, Lilith remained composed, a knowing smile on her lips.

“This is a dragonborn secret reserved only for the Draconic Elite. A forbidden incantation called Divine Slayer: Lance of Longinus.”

She withdrew a metal spike—a three-centimeter-wide, thirty-centimeter-long iron lance—from her robes, imbued it with power, and hurled it upward.

With a scream of metal through the air, it shot straight into the heavens.

“I just launched it one kilometer straight up.”

Cordelia, sword at the ready, stared incredulously. “You launched it? What?”

Lilith’s voice was calm, but every word carried weight. “The Lance of God, a thirty-centimeter iron spear. And once you do, it must fall.”

“What?” Cordelia blinked.

Lilith’s answer came with quiet finality. “A steel spike, boosted by gravitational acceleration and raw magic. It’s falling at speeds far beyond sound. This is no ordinary attack. It’s the Lance of God, and it never misses. You can’t stop it.”

Cordelia’s expression twisted with unease. And who could blame her? Even from my vantage point, the magical pressure radiating from Lilith was unnaturally intense.

But then, with a sharp smack, Cordelia slapped her left cheek with her open palm.

“Bring it on, then! Let’s see what you’ve got!”

All fear vanished from her eyes. What remained was pure defiance, a fire that wouldn’t be extinguished. She raised the divine blade skyward, a grin cutting across her face like lightning.

Above her, Lilith hovered in place, her smug smile unshaken.

“In a few seconds, the lance will pierce you. Killing you isn’t my intention, but if you surrender now, I’ll call it off.”

“Surrender? Before we’ve even started?” Cordelia scoffed. “Don’t make me laugh.”

The two locked eyes. Hero and Mage, fate-bound in a deadly standoff.

High above, the divine spear, accelerated by gravity and magic alike, plummeted toward Cordelia with terrifying precision. There was no dodging it. No deflecting it. Only death.

Cordelia braced herself, blade aimed at the heavens, preparing to strike the impossible.

And I, the humble Villager, just sighed and rubbed my temples.

Seriously… these two.

I stooped, grabbed a pebble from the ground, and hurled it full force at Lilith.

Thunk. A dull impact. She yelped, both hands flying to her head mid-air, tears springing to her eyes.

Perfect shot.

She immediately turned toward me, instantly recognizing the source of the ambush. Her expression faltered when she saw my face twisted in a full-on demon mask scowl.

Panicked, Lilith canceled her flight spell and floated down to the ground, shuffling guiltily over to my side.

“You drew way too much attention,” I muttered, flicking my knuckles down hard on Lilith’s head. “What were you thinking, pulling out a dragon clan secret art in a school entrance exam, you absolute moron.”

She flinched and clutched her scalp, tears welling up at the corners of her eyes again. “I only did it because I realized I couldn’t beat that girl otherwise. She’s gotten stronger since last time.”

Lilith puffed her cheeks in protest, looking every bit the petulant child, but I just sighed, exasperated.

“You didn’t need to beat her in the first place.”

That’s when Cordelia stepped between us.

“I’m not entirely sure what just happened,” she said, eyeing both of us with a wry smile, “but are we calling the spar over?”

“Yeah,” I nodded. “We are. Anymore of this and it’s gonna turn into an actual fight to the death.”

Cordelia seemed to consider that, then gave a light nod and turned to Lilith with a radiant, unguarded smile.

“You’re strong, Lilith. I like strong girls.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means strong girls are always the ones who’ve worked for it. They’ve earned it. Just like this so-called Villager right here, who’s honestly put in so much effort it’s exhausting just watching him. Makes you respect the guy.”

“Eh?”

“You’re not a Hero. Not a sage. Just a magician, right?”

“Correct.”

“And yet you’re strong enough to go head-to-head with me. I’m not saying I haven’t trained too, but talent only goes so far.”

“So what are you trying to say?”

“I’m saying that if you’ve come this far without a divine title backing you, then your work ethic alone deserves respect, even if your personality is, let’s say, less than charming.” Cordelia beamed again, a sunflower blooming under the sun, and extended her right hand toward Lilith. “Call it a temporary truce, yeah? Friends for now?”

Lilith remained silent, her face twisted into a complicated expression—part sheepish, part uncertain. She clearly wasn’t used to this kind of gesture. But Cordelia’s warm, radiant smile must’ve worn her down. A small, tentative smile touched her lips as she slowly reached out her right hand to accept the offered handshake.

Just then, a strong gust of wind swept across the training grounds.

Lilith’s cloak billowed dramatically, flaring open, revealing the soft linen of her undergarments beneath. The robe had already been torn earlier by Cordelia’s blade, so now her bare skin, from collarbone to the upper swell of her chest, was completely exposed.

And with it, the unmistakable mark.

The slave crest.

I groaned inwardly, burying my face in my hands. Of course. We ran out of time. I changed the registration so she’s legally mine now, but I never actually erased the damn brand.

Cordelia stared at the mark, her face slowly draining of color.

“That’s a slave crest,” she said, voice tight. “A sex slave’s, isn’t it?”

Lilith gave a small nod.

Cordelia went ghost pale. Her lips parted, but no sound came out at first. When she finally managed to speak, her words trembled on the edge of disbelief.

“And her owner… as a sex slave… is… you, Ryuto?”

Lilith nodded again, wordless and composed.

Cordelia’s whole body began to shake. Her shoulders quivered as though she were freezing, though the day was warm. Her eyes brimmed with tears, her temple veins bulging, jaw clenched. It was hard to tell if she was furious, heartbroken, or some wild mix of both.

She lowered her lashes, a single tear slipping down her cheek before she wiped it away with her pinky.

Then she forced a painfully fake smile, messy and cracked.

“Well, of course. It’s been years, hasn’t it?”

“Huh?”

“You’re a guy, and Lilith’s cute, even from my perspective as another girl. So yeah. I guess that kind of thing was bound to happen eventually.”

“Cordelia? What are you talking about?”

“Huh? Nah, it’s nothing.”

The moment Cordelia spoke, I knew it wasn’t. Her voice strained with a brittle cheerfulness that felt more like a mask than anything real. I frowned, not buying it.

“Are you sure?”

She didn’t answer right away. Her lashes dipped, shadowing her expression, and when she finally spoke, it was soft. Too soft.

“There’s nothing. Really. I understand. It all makes sense. And it’s not like I have the right to say anything. I’m just your childhood friend. Not your girlfriend. Not anything…”

The silence between us thickened, every heartbeat a weight.

Then, barely audible, she murmured, “But… still. Even though it’s just a little. I feel kind of… lonely.”

Before I could react, she turned on her heel and started walking away, her back stiff, her steps a touch too quick.

“Hey, wait,” I called after her.

“I’m not waiting. Bye!”

“Come on! We just saw each other again after all this time. You’re really gonna walk away like that?”

That made her stop. She spun around, her face twisted into a painful smile, one so forced it hurt to look at.

“Did you really just say that?” she asked, her voice trembling.

Tears welled in her eyes, and one slipped free, tracing a path down her cheek.

“Yeah,” I replied cautiously.

Her lips trembled. “Do you have any idea how pathetic I feel right now?”

I had no answer. I just stood there, frozen, the words catching in my throat.

She clenched her fists so tightly her knuckles turned white. Her face flushed deep red, trembling with a mix of anger and heartbreak, and her glare pierced through me.

“You…”

I blinked, caught off guard. “You…?”

Cordelia trembled uncontrollably, her entire body shaking with rage. And then, she screamed. “You absolute idiot, Ryuto!”

Without another word, she turned on her heel and sprinted off, full speed, vanishing into the school building like a gust of wind.

“What the hell’s her problem?” I muttered, blinking in disbelief as I turned to Lilith.

She looked just as exasperated as I felt, arms crossed, eyes half-lidded with tired resignation.

“Ryuto?”

“Hm?”

“If there’s one thing I can say with certainty…” She sighed. “Any normal girl would be furious. Honestly, even I feel kinda bad for her.”

And so, after all that chaos, Lilith and I finally enrolled at Altena Magical Academy.

※※※

It was early morning, and outside, the world was still shrouded in darkness, rain pounding endlessly against the windows. The downpour had lasted five days now, with no sign of letting up anytime soon.

It had been a week since that day, and in all that time, I hadn’t eaten a single bite. Only water.

I, Cordelia Allston, had been drifting through my days in a haze of apathy.

Strangely, I didn’t even feel hungry. My body was heavy, sluggish, like it was made of lead. Every movement, every breath, felt like a burden. It wasn’t just that I didn’t want to eat. I couldn’t. The mere sight of food turned my stomach.

My dorm room was barren and cold, with only a stack of spellbooks and a rack of training gear to keep me company.

Curled up in bed, I buried my face in the pillow.

We’ve finally been reunited, and this is what it came to.

It wasn’t like it was wrong for Ryuto to be the master of some sex slave. He was sixteen now. Of course, he might’ve done things with someone else, with other girls. It wasn’t strange. And I had no right to chain him down.

I understood. I really did.

Ryuto and I were just childhood friends, nothing more. We weren’t engaged, weren’t lovers, hadn’t even made any childish promises about our future. There was no tie between us, no thread of fate that bound our paths together. So this ache twisting inside me was nothing but selfish resentment. I knew that. I had no right to wallow, no excuse to complain.

And yet, I couldn’t stop the sigh that slipped from my lips.

Why does it hurt so much? Just thinking about him made my chest tighten, like someone was gently but relentlessly pressing down on my heart. A dull, curling ache that wouldn’t leave me alone.

“Haaah…” I sighed again.

How many times had it been today?

Lilith’s profile flashed in my mind uninvited. That sharp, beautiful face that was always composed, always calm. The image hovered like a ghost, clouding my heart with every reappearance.

“It’s not like he’s taken or anything,” I mumbled, barely convincing even myself. “Nothing’s been decided…”

Nobles having concubines was hardly unusual. Everyone knew the distinction between a wife and a mistress. And whatever kind of relationship Ryuto had with that girl wasn’t romantic. It couldn’t be. A master and his sex slave… Surely that wasn’t the same as being lovers.

But the way they talked. The comfortable and familiar way they moved around each other. Maybe it was possible to be both: a master and a lover.

“Ouch.”

The thought stabbed through me like a knife, sharper than I expected. I pressed a hand to my chest, trying to will the ache away. That was when sunlight finally slipped through the curtains, washing the dull room in pale morning gold.

I stepped in front of the mirror, looked at my own tired face, and slapped both cheeks with open palms.

Get a grip, Cordelia.

“I am Cordelia Allston. A Hero. One that doesn’t get to mope around looking pathetic.”

Today was the entrance ceremony. As the top new student, I was expected to deliver the formal address. Nobles, scholars, and dignitaries from all over the world would be in attendance.

I couldn’t afford to let them see weakness.

No, what the world needed was a symbol of strength. A beacon to rally behind. I had to become that. I had to wear the mask, speak the words, and stand tall as the one destined to face the coming catastrophe head-on.

The auditorium was draped in a deep red carpet, its surface plush and luxurious beneath every footstep. This year, the Altena Magical Academy had accepted five hundred new students. Of those, only fifty had been granted scholarship status.

And yet, the hall couldn’t even hold three hundred people.

Roughly a hundred seats were already reserved for distinguished guests and faculty, leaving space for only two hundred students. Which meant attendance at the entrance ceremony was limited strictly to the elite: scholarship recipients and nobles. Everyone else was relegated to their dorm rooms for “self-study.”

It was just another reminder of how deeply entrenched the class system was in this world. Still, barring students from attending their own entrance ceremony? That felt especially cold.

What truly surprised me, though, was that Ryuto hadn’t been allowed in either.

He’d been accepted into the academy, sure, but his status as a mere Villager had marked him from the start. No matter how capable he was, he’d been shoved into the general admissions category, and that meant exclusion from today’s ceremony.

“That concludes the new student representative’s address.”

Thunderous applause erupted across the hall as I stepped down from the stage. I bowed once, then made my way back to my seat, my expression composed, my steps precise.

The headmaster spoke next, followed by a solemn chorus of the school anthem. And with that, the ceremony came to an end.

Rain still fell in a quiet drizzle outside as Moses and I made our way down the covered walkway connecting the school buildings to the dorms. The afternoon was ours—no classes, no obligations.

I planned to return straight to my room, dive back into my usual training: strength conditioning, combat runes, anything to keep my body sharp and my mind distracted.

“You’ve looked pale lately. Are you feeling alright, Miss Cordelia?” Moses asked, glancing sideways at me with quiet concern.

“You noticed, huh?”

“Well, I do see you every day,” he replied gently. “You’ve got dark circles under your eyes.”

No surprise there. I hadn’t eaten properly in over a week. It was a miracle I could even stand.

“By the way, things have been hectic with the ceremony and everything, but today is April first, isn’t it?” I asked.

“Yes, that’s right. Why do you ask?”

“Don’t you think it feels kind of lonely?”

“Lonely? Why would it?”

“Because today’s the Spring Flower Festival.”

“Hm?”

“You know, back in our village. We always celebrated the arrival of spring by giving flowers to our families, to the people we cared about. The whole square would be covered in blossoms,” I said, my voice softening with the memory. “It was always so colorful, so alive.”

Moses frowned, his brow creasing slightly. “Ah, yes. That quaint little country tradition.”

“‘Country tradition,’ huh?” I gave a quiet laugh. “Yeah, I guess it was. But I liked it. I really did.”

“Liked what?” he asked, puzzled.

“The flowers. I always loved them. And decorating the square with everyone on April first… It made the whole village feel warm.”

He responded with a faint, nasal chuckle, his lips curling into a smirk that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “You’re walking the path of a Hero now, Miss Cordelia. Glory, honor, wealth—whatever you want, you’ll have it.”

“What are you trying to say?”

“That kind of nostalgia? It fades fast.”

We reached the junction where the covered walkway split: one path leading to the boys’ dorm, the other to the girls’.

“Well, I’ll see you around.”

“Mm. Until tomorrow.”

With that, I walked on alone. The corridor was quiet, the rain pattering gently against the roof overhead. Then, just ahead, a familiar figure caught my eye.

Soaked to the bone, Ryuto sat hunched on one of the benches along the walkway.

“Ryuto?”

He looked up, offered a calm, casual smile, and raised one hand in greeting.

“Yo.”

“Do you need something?”

“What’s going on with you lately? You’ve been acting cold. Like… totally shutting me out.”

Of course, I had. I’d been deliberately keeping my distance, trying to freeze him out with clipped words and cold stares. Pretending not to care was the only thing keeping me together.

Ryuto said nothing for a moment. Then he reached into his coat, pulled something out, and held it toward me.

A bouquet.

Drenched from the rain, the flowers sagged slightly, petals clinging to each other in wilted folds.

But even so, they were beautiful.

“What’s this?”

“Lily of the valley.”

“I know what it is. I meant… why?”

“It’s April first,” Ryuto said simply, brushing wet hair from his forehead. “I just picked them a little while ago.”

“You’re still keeping up with that old village tradition? Even now? You got soaked doing this.”

“Yeah. Soaked and all.”

“You’ll catch a cold.”

But instead of concern, he gave me that bright, ridiculous grin of his, the kind that could light up a whole room.

“Didn’t you hear? Idiots don’t get colds.”

“Seriously.” I sighed, exasperated, and yet, somehow, not entirely annoyed. Honestly, he did seem like the kind of person who’d stubbornly dodge every virus just out of sheer idiocy. “Do you even remember what giving flowers on April first is supposed to mean?”

He looked at me, calm and steady. “You give them to your family, or someone you care about. It’s about wanting to see them smile.”

The words hung in the air.

Neither of us said anything for a moment.

It was I who broke the silence first.

“Are you giving anything to Lilith?”

Ryuto blinked. “Hm?”

“…”

“Nah. Nothing. She’s not from our village, so it wouldn’t mean anything to her.”

“I see.”

Another quiet lull. The sound of the rain filled the space between us.

Again, I was the one who spoke first.

“Hey.”

“Yeah?” he replied, his voice soft now and attentive.

“Lilith… She’s your sex slave, isn’t she?” I asked, barely managing to keep my voice steady.

Ryuto didn’t flinch. “Yeah, that’s… technically what the arrangement says.”

“I-I see… um… so…” My cheeks were burning. I could feel the heat rising beneath my skin. But no matter how embarrassing it was, I couldn’t leave the question unasked. “Have you… done anything? You know. With her?”

“Nope,” he replied, casual as ever. “Lilith’s basically like you. Just an old friend. That’s all.”

I probably looked ridiculous, frozen and blinking like I’d been slapped with a wet cloth. After all that spiraling, all that stewing in silence and doubt… That was his answer? Just… nothing? My chest felt lighter, and yet heavier at the same time.

Neither of us spoke. The silence stretched on, thick and awkward and full of everything I couldn’t say.

※※※

Cordelia’s face twisted into something caught between shock and confusion, and I, Ryuto Maclaine, had absolutely no idea what to do with that look.

She’d been cold for a week now, shutting me out with clipped words and unreadable stares. It was never like this. A single flower used to keep her grinning all day. But now? She barely talked. She barely looked at me. I knew girls changed as they got older, but seriously, was it supposed to be this complicated?

Just when I was about to say something to fill the silence, she dropped her gaze, her lashes casting shadows across her cheeks.

“Thanks,” she said, almost too softly to hear.

“Huh?”

“For the flowers.”

“Oh. Yeah.”

Then she looked up, eyes locking on mine with something quiet and fragile behind them. And for the first time in what felt like forever, she smiled. Just barely. But it was there.

“Thank you,” she repeated, more clearly this time.

“Yeah,” I replied.

Cordelia gave a sheepish laugh and rubbed her stomach. “Hehe… Hey, did you eat lunch yet?”

“Not yet.”

She pointed toward the school building. “Let’s go to the cafeteria. Together.”

“Sure, sounds good,” I said, nodding.

But for some reason, she didn’t move. She just stood there, staring at me expectantly.

“What? Aren’t we going?”

“You go first.”

“Huh? Why?”

“Because that’s how it’s always been,” she said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

And she was right. Back then, no matter where we went, she was always trailing just behind me, her little footsteps pattering close by, never quite catching up.

“Yeah. I guess so.”

Smiling faintly, I turned and started walking.

“Wait,” she called out.

When I looked back, she was standing there, her cheeks tinged pink, her arm extended toward me.

She wanted me to take her hand, just like I used to.

I sighed. Some things never change, huh? Still the same little kid underneath it all.

And just like that, our life at the academy began.

Chapter 2: The Villager at the Magic Academy

The Forest of Welim, also known as the Forest of Lost Paths, was a place where few dared tread, a territory steeped in danger and soaked in ancient magic. Once, long ago, during the era of the Great Calamity, the forest had been a thriving part of the human realm. That was, until the treants—the treefolk—spawned a Demon King from among their kind. Twisted by madness, the treant race surged forth like a tidal wave, overrunning human settlements in their path.

In the wake of their rampage, humanity lost nearly five percent of its habitable territory. That land was swallowed by corruption, consumed by the encroaching dark magic. And so, the Forest of Welim was lost, claimed by the demonic and rendered unfit for human life.

The Calamity.

The word referred not only to the sudden, unnatural birth of Demon Kings or eldritch gods from among monsters, but also to those creatures themselves. However, when people spoke of the Great Calamity, its meaning deepened: it was an event in which an entire species mutated in a single generation, producing not just a lone threat but a monstrous horde. It was a catastrophe on the scale of a species.

Most of the creatures in such an event didn’t reach the terrifying power of a true Demon King. But what they lacked in individual strength, they made up for in sheer overwhelming numbers.

Take goblins, for example. Ordinarily, they were the lowest tier of magical creatures. A small village could fend them off with little more than hoes and pitchforks. They were nuisances, not threats.

But during one recorded Great Calamity, even goblins transformed. One rose to become a Goblin King. Then the Goblin King evolved further into a Goblin Emperor.

Goblins were supposed to be the bread-and-butter enemies for greenhorn adventurers. A Goblin King was a challenge for those with a few campaigns under their belt. And even then, neither were especially powerful by monster standards. But in numbers? They were terrifying.

Goblins were a prolific species. So prolific, in fact, that in the underground caverns beneath the Dragon’s Village, it was said that goblins had been kept by the thousands, bred and managed like livestock. A swarm that size, all turned hostile, was nothing short of apocalyptic.

Every last one of those goblins had been boosted by the mutations brought on by the Great Calamity. The result was nothing short of a disaster, on a scale so massive it sounded almost fictional. Frontier villages fell like dominoes, devoured by the onrushing tide of goblin forces with no time to mount any kind of defense.

When it came to Goblin Emperors, those weren’t just your average monsters. They were classified as Phantom Beasts, the kind of ultra-rare threats that entire kingdoms were built to repel. Imagine that: each goblin settlement, of which there were many, produced one, sometimes even two of these monstrosities. It was no wonder every nation’s knight orders were suddenly thrown into chaos.

Still, if that had been the end of it, humanity might have scraped through. Just barely.

The Goblin Emperor was supposed to be the apex of goblin evolution, the final form. The evolutionary ceiling. But in that particular calamity, the goblins didn’t stop there. No, the one at the top of the hierarchy, the ruler who had originally reached the Emperor stage, underwent an impossible transformation.

It evolved again.

They called it the Ultimate Goblin. A creature whose power rivaled that of the highest-class evil gods, a singular being who led an army so vast and violent that entire nations crumbled under its advance. Wherever it marched, kingdoms died.

By the time the threat was finally extinguished, roughly ten percent of the continent’s landmass had been lost, swallowed by darkness, ceded to monsters.

Defeating it had required a total mobilization: every Hero from the four cardinal directions, every S-rank adventurer from every known kingdom. Only when all those forces joined together did humanity manage to strike back and bring the threat down.

But you’re probably starting to realize the pattern here. The world Cordelia and I lived in? It was one where humanity was slowly, steadily declining.

Every few hundred years—sometimes just a few decades—a Great Calamity reared its head. And every time, we lost a little more. A few percent of livable land here. A few more safe cities there. As of now, humans didn’t even control half the continent. We were holding onto scraps.

And every time we clawed back a little progress—every advance in science, every leap in magic—it got dragged backward again by the next disaster. At this point, we were not evolving. We were just barely treading water.

Anyway, I got a little off track.

What I meant to say was: Altena Magical Academy, where Cordelia and I now attended, wasn’t always in its current location. A few hundred years ago, the school was forced to relocate from its original site after another territory was lost.

It was said that the old site of Altena Magic Academy now lay deep within the cursed Forest of Welim, the same place once consumed by a Great Calamity and twisted into what people now called the Forest of Lost Paths.

Why bring this up? Because, well, context matters.

Not long after the entrance exams ended, the Academy posted our class placements. Rankings were based on performance, at least officially. Lilith, thanks to her spectacular duel with Cordelia during the practical, was slotted into the elite scholarship class. Cordelia, naturally, was already at the top.

Me? Dead last.

According to the academy’s own words, the reason was simple and blunt: “Because you’re a Villager.” Nothing more. No subtlety. No shame.

Though, between you and me, I was pretty sure there was a noble brat somewhere pulling strings behind the scenes. Some little lordling who didn’t like seeing a commoner score well. That explanation made a lot more sense.

Still, I wasn’t too bothered. As long as I could keep tabs on Cordelia from a close enough distance, it didn’t really matter where they put me. And with Lilith embedded in the top class, I’d have some eyes up there too. For now, that was good enough.

Which brings us to today.

Our bottom-rank class—forty-odd students—had been gathered out on the Academy’s training grounds. Each of us was burdened with a heavy hiking pack, like we were about to climb a mountain instead of study magic. Nearby, five mercenaries stood watch, clearly from the Adventurer’s Guild. Big guys. Mean-looking. Not the sort you wanted to ask questions twice.

One man stood at the head of the formation, arms folded across his gray robe. Middle-aged, thickly built, and already radiating that special brand of contempt reserved for people who thought their time was being wasted.

I raised a hand. “Hey, Instructor? Mind if I ask something?”

He turned to me, and his expression twisted as he’d just stepped into something foul. “Hey, kid.”

“Kid? You talking to me?”

“You see anyone else running their mouth?”

“Fair enough,” I muttered. “So, what’s the plan here?”

He gave no answer, letting a slow, cruel smile spread across his face.

“This is a field camp. Minimum duration: one month. During that time, my word is law. You disobey, you drop.”

That got everyone’s attention.

Then he raised his voice, loud enough to reach the whole group, his grin stretching wider. “Listen up, maggots—because from this moment on, that’s all you are. Trash.”

His voice cut through the field like a drawn blade: deep and rough but carrying undeniable authority. The kind of voice that didn’t need to shout to demand attention. Every head turned. The word “trash” hung in the air like smoke after an explosion. You could feel the air tighten, a collective tension rising as every student’s gaze locked onto the instructor.

“Your entrance exam scores were the worst,” he said flatly, without a shred of sympathy. “Let me be blunt: more than half of you are completely useless. Every year, during this training camp, more than half end up quitting.”

I remembered something about that during orientation… how the lowest-ranking class was put through a sort of “trial period.” But even so, hearing it like this, being told you were garbage to your face? That was another level. Brutal didn’t begin to cover it.

Still, he didn’t stop there.

“The academy didn’t pick you for no reason. Most of you are commoners, peasants with no formal training in magic. So yes, right now, you’re trash. But somewhere among you, there might be a few with real talent. Hidden potential.”

He gave a bitter, almost amused snort. “And me? I’m the one stuck digging through that garbage. Wading through filth, trying to fish out a gem or two. That’s my job. I’ve been handed the delightful task of sewer cleaner.”

I stared at him, mouth slightly agape. It was so over-the-top, I didn’t know whether to laugh or punch something. And apparently, even that was too much for him.

Without warning, he started marching toward me, heavy boots pounding the dirt.

“Hey, kid,” he barked.

“Yeah?”

“You just said something earlier, didn’t you? ‘I’ve got a question,’ or some crap like that?”

“Yeah. So?”

He gave a single, theatrical nod. Then he raised his fist.

“When you speak to an instructor during training camp, you do it with respect. You say, ‘Instructor, sir! Permission to ask a question, sir!’ Got that?!”

The punch came, a lazy, looping right hook that honestly looked like it came out of some third-rate drama. It was slow enough that I could’ve dodged it blindfolded. But I didn’t. I let it hit me.

There was a dull, satisfying thud as his fist connected with my cheek. It didn’t hurt much; it wasn’t meant to. It was a theater. A statement.

Around me, the entire class froze. The air went cold. No one spoke. No one moved.

Maybe this was part of his method. Break us down. Humiliate us. See who quit and who dug in. If the rumors were true, this training camp wasn’t just harsh; it was hell. And it had only just begun.

Just as the instructor had said, more than half the students here were expected to fail, not because they weren’t trying, but because they lacked talent. No magical aptitude. No real potential. Technically, we weren’t even full students yet. The Academy saw it as an extended entrance exam. A final filter. A bit of basic instruction followed by a cold, ruthless decision: keep the useful ones, discard the rest.

And because we were all on probation, we were going to be pushed hard, driven through relentless drills and physical conditioning. The kind of training designed not just to test skill but to break spirits. In a situation like that, complaints were inevitable. Resentment would bubble up, fast and loud.

Which was exactly why the instructor had opened with a punch. Not just at me—though I got the honor—but as a message to the rest of the class. Put them in their place right out of the gate. Set the hierarchy early. Make it clear who was in charge and what happened when you stepped out of line.

Judging by the expressions around me, it had worked. Most of the students were frozen, stuck with those stiff, pasted-on faces that screamed, “Don’t make eye contact.” If his goal had been total submission, then yeah, mission accomplished.

But me? I wasn’t having it.

I’d never been part of any jock culture back in Japan, never bought into the whole “shut up and obey” system. I hated that mindset. And that was exactly why I didn’t dodge his punch. I let him hit me on purpose.

He thought he could set the tone with a single blow, but when his fist connected, I saw it. Just for a split second. The flicker in his eyes. The way his façade cracked.

He hadn’t expected me to take the hit, or to still be standing there, completely unfazed. He tried to play it off, keeping his face neutral, but I saw the hesitation. My slight, knowing smile made him stiffen.

“Open your mouth,” he said suddenly.

Ah. So that’s what he’s thinking. I complied without resistance.

He peered in, clearly expecting something—blood, broken teeth, maybe even a metal plate or implant. But he found nothing.

“Huh,” he muttered, frowning. “Nothing.”

“Something wrong?” I asked, voice calm, almost playful.

“No. Forget it.”

His expression said otherwise. He was rubbing his fist now, trying not to make it obvious, but I saw it. And I nearly burst out laughing. When he punched me with full force, it was not much different from slamming his fist into a slab of steel.

Unless he had a specialized melee-class profession, like a martial artist or a battle monk, throwing a barehanded punch at my face was just self-harm.

Well, judging by the way he was flexing his fingers and the slight swelling starting to show, it looked like he’d gotten away with just a minor bruise. No bones broken, fortunately for him.

Our group—Class F, the bottom of the barrel—consisted of forty-five students in total. Escorted by five seasoned adventurers, we began our march into the Forest of Welim, otherwise known as the Forest of Lost Paths. As for our capabilities in combat? Rock bottom. Or rather, their capabilities. I wasn’t worried about myself.

If any monsters ambushed us now, most of these kids wouldn’t last ten seconds. Worse yet, the forest itself was a nightmare. Twisting paths, mana-heavy air that warped your sense of direction, and a magical field that completely scrambled compasses. Unless you were an expert at navigating enchanted terrain, getting lost was practically guaranteed.

So why were we headed into a place like this? Simple: control.

By dragging us into an isolated, hostile environment, the academy was making a point. There was no running. No escape. They wanted us tired, intimidated, and just cooperative enough to follow orders without question. A form of soft imprisonment, dressed up as training.

Just before we left the Academy grounds, they split us into nine squads of five. The instructor explained that all camp activities would be conducted in teams, and we were expected to operate in these formations at all times. No introductions, no names, just line up and move out. We formed nine tight columns, five to a line, and began our march. The idea, apparently, was that we’d get to know each other along the way.

After a while, once we were deep into the outskirts of the forest, I figured it was time to break the silence.

“Ryuto Maclaine. Villager. Nice to meet you,” I said.

I heard a soft groan beside me. “Great. I get stuck with a Villager? Just my luck.”

The one complaining was Arthur Markham, a lean, sharp-featured guy with shoulder-length blond hair that looked like it belonged in a noble court, not a death march through an enchanted forest. He was the third son of some poor noble house, the kind that had prestige but no money. He looked at me like I’d tracked mud on his carpet, but at least he shook my hand. That alone made him more tolerable than most.

Turning to the next person in line, I extended my hand toward a small-framed boy with pale skin and short silver hair cut in a clean bob. He looked delicate, more like a scholar than a soldier, but there was something focused in his eyes.

The silver-haired boy just stared at my outstretched hand for a second, then deliberately turned his face away.

“Right,” I muttered. “What’s your problem?”

“It’s pointless,” he said quietly.

“Pointless? What is?”

He let out a soft sigh, like talking to me was already beneath him. “Must I really explain everything? Though I suppose yes, in this case, a brief explanation will expedite things.”

I raised an eyebrow. “You’ve lost me.”

With a theatrical shrug, he finally met my gaze. “Your job class is Villager. Statistically, that makes you a guaranteed dropout. I, on the other hand, have the aptitude of a Mage. I’ll advance, you’ll be dismissed. Our paths will never cross again, not after this training camp. Therefore, building a relationship with you yields no benefit to my life. It would be… inefficient.”

“In other words?”

“In other words, I won’t be speaking to you,” he said matter-of-factly. “That includes greetings.”

“Wow. What a charming personality you’ve got.”

Even I couldn’t help but feel irritated by that.

I knew it wasn’t worth it, that I should stay under the radar. But something about this smug bastard made my blood run hot. One punch wouldn’t get me kicked out, right?

That was what I told myself as I grabbed the front of his robes and yanked him toward me.

“A Villager picking a fight with a Mage?” he said, eyes narrowing. “You’re either braver or stupider than I thought.”

“You know,” I muttered, “you smell just like a certain childhood friend of mine. Same stuck-up, arrogant, self-important stench.”

Before things could escalate, a small, flustered figure suddenly stepped between us.

“Um, uh… Wait! P-Please don’t fight! Fighting’s not good!”

A shrine maiden.

No mistaking it. She wore the traditional red-and-white robes, a miko uniform straight from the east. The Academy mandated uniforms, but in her case, a special cultural exemption had been granted because she was a foreign exchange student. And yeah, she stood out. A lot.

White sleeves flowed around her arms, and a crimson hakama swayed around her legs. Her black hair was tied into twin tails that framed her delicate face. She was tiny, barely a hundred and fifty centimeters tall, but despite her small frame, her figure, well, she certainly didn’t lack curves.

Koharu Saegusa, a student from the far east, descended from a family of traditional magicians. She’d traveled all the way to the western edge of the continent to study here.

Cordelia was what you’d call a radiant beauty. If she were a flower, she’d be a sunflower: strong, bright, and full of life. Lilith, by contrast, had a more fragile, morbid charm, like a red spider lily, beautiful but touched with danger.

And Koharu… What flower could possibly describe her?

She wasn’t exactly beautiful in the traditional sense, not like Cordelia or Lilith. She was cute. Undeniably cute. But not just that. There was something else, something hard to pin down. Small and soft like a woodland creature? No, not quite. Plush and curvy? Closer, but still not it. She had an innocent sexiness that was totally overpowered by her adorableness.

What’s the term…?

Loli with big boobs.

Yes. That was it. That was exactly it. She was the personification of that paradoxical archetype: Loli Busty. A concept more than a category. Okay, maybe that’s not a flower, technically speaking, but damn, if it doesn’t fit better than anything else.

Wait. What the hell am I thinking?

While I was busy spiraling down that particular rabbit hole, Koharu had slipped between the other guy and me and was now gently prying us apart. Her tiny hands grasped my arm with surprising strength.

“N-No fighting! Fighting is bad!” she cried.

And then, without letting go, she clasped both hands around my right wrist, holding it like I was a misbehaving child on the verge of running off.

“Ryuto-kun! You can’t fight! It’s not allowed! You can’t!”

Which meant, mechanically speaking, that my right hand was now pinned between Koharu’s palms and also caught directly between… well, her shrine maiden outfit wasn’t exactly built for full-body restraint. The result? A very soft, very bouncy, very direct contact.

“Okay! I get it! I get it already. No fighting! Just let go!” I barked, flustered beyond measure.

But instead of releasing me, Koharu beamed. A full-faced, radiant, glowing smile as she bounced on the balls of her feet like an overjoyed puppy.

“I’m so glad! So glad! I’m so glad there’s no fighting!”

Still holding my hand. Still bouncing.

Which, of course, meant things were… also bouncing. With every hop, her chest made a gentle, devastating impact. I was under attack. Full-force, shrine maiden-style, bouncing attack. And there was nowhere to run.

“Just let go already!” I snapped, struggling to free my arm.

“Why?” Koharu blinked up at me, completely innocent.

Oh no. She’s serious. She’s actually serious.

“Because you’re… you’re pressing up against me!”

“Pressing… what?”

She’s a natural-born airhead, isn’t she?

There was no way around it. I’d have to spell it out.

“Your chest!” I barked. “It’s, uh… y’know… bouncing against me!”

“How exactly is it bouncing?” she asked, tilting her head.

“Poing poing… Damn it, don’t make me say it out loud!”

Finally, understanding dawned in her eyes, and her entire face turned crimson in an instant. She recoiled like she’d been scalded, yanking her hands away and stumbling a step back.

“Y-You perv—! R-Ryuto-kun… you big… big idiot!”

“I didn’t do anything!” I protested, but it was too late. She’d already turned tail, bolting into the forest in a flurry of flustered steps and trailing sleeves.

Or at least she tried to.

Before she could escape, the last member of our group, silent until now, reached out and calmly grabbed her shoulder, stopping her in her tracks.

“Are you stupid?” the newcomer said flatly.

“W-What? Stupid? What do you mean by that?” Koharu’s high-pitched voice rang out through the trees.

She wore a pristine white robe and a deep hood pulled low over her face, only a peek of pale blue hair visible beneath it, a short bob that framed her cheeks.

“I heard this training camp enforces strict mutual surveillance and group accountability. That’s why we’re split into squads like this. If you run off, we all suffer.”

And with that, she shoved Koharu back toward the path, toppling her over like a sack of rice.

“Okay, did she just speak for the first time?” I muttered. “Also, judging by the voice, she’s a girl?”

Arthur, the third son of the broke noble house, nodded. “Yeah. She didn’t respond to anything earlier, but now she’s talking?”

Brian, the silver-haired snob who had nearly picked a fight with me earlier, nodded as well. “Indeed. Not a single word until now.”

The hooded girl, apparently done with the lecture, trotted over to me with light, precise steps, then looked up from beneath her cowl.

“Flirting with Ryuto? You’re two million years too early.”

A faint headache was starting to creep in as I turned to the girl standing beside me.

“Lilith?”

“What?”

“Why are you even here? You’re in the elite class, right?”

“It’s an elective,” she replied flatly.

“Elective?”

“This program is optional,” she explained. “Class E students are forced to participate, but the upper classes get to choose, and no one with half a brain would voluntarily sign up for something like this.”

“So basically, this camp ends up being nothing but the bottom-of-the-barrel students.”

“Exactly.”

I narrowed my eyes. “Then why are you here? I asked you to keep an eye on Cordelia, watch the area around her, and relay information back to me. That was the deal, wasn’t it?”

Lilith averted her gaze, lashes low, looking distinctly guilty.

“I did.”

“Did?”

“There was… a scent,” she muttered. “A female scent.”

And with that, she calmly glanced down at Koharu, still sitting on the ground, and shot her a casual middle finger.

I sighed. Great. This is the kind of group I’m stuck with for the next month.

※※※

After three hours of hiking, we finally reached the old academy building. From the outside, it looked like something out of a horror novel: a crumbling mansion straight out of a vampire flick, or maybe a haunted house from a theme park that had seen better days. Weathered wood, overgrown vines, windows like hollow eyes staring back at us.

Inside, though, it was surprisingly intact. Probably because they reused it every year for this exact training camp. The structure was sound. The furnishings were serviceable.

But the dust? A full year’s worth. Layered thick on every flat surface.

Naturally, our first mission in this month-long boot camp turned out to be exactly what you’d expect: cleaning. From top to bottom, we had to scrub every inch of the main building and the dormitory. No room was spared. Dust, cobwebs, and even a few suspicious stains that looked older than the academy itself. It all had to go.

By the time the sun dipped below the horizon, we were filthy, exhausted, and more than ready for dinner. After the meal, we were finally granted access to our assigned dorm rooms.

Each room was designed for four people, with polished wooden floors, four desks, and two bunk beds. Our squad, however, only had three guys, which meant we’d been lumped together by default. No vote. No swaps. No escape.

“Looks like we’re all in the same boat,” Arthur Markham muttered, rubbing the back of his neck with a sigh.

He wasn’t wrong.

Brian Short, the silver-haired miniature aristocrat, still hadn’t said a single word to me. Not once. Not even a glance. He behaved as if I didn’t exist, as if the very air around me was more deserving of acknowledgment. And while I wouldn’t call myself some saint who let insults roll off his back, I was more than willing to return fire when someone threw the first punch.

The guy’s whole problem with me boiled down to one thing: I was a Villager. Beneath him. Not worth speaking to. Just the dirt under his polished shoes.

I’d been tempted to sock him once or twice, sure, but Lilith had warned me that violence on academy grounds was a serious offense, even during training. Especially when the “provocation” came down to attitude and silence. If I threw a punch, I’d be the one punished. No exceptions.

So instead, I did the next best thing.

I glared at him.

Every thirty minutes on the dot, like clockwork, I gave Brian Short a death stare so sharp it could cut steel. And I didn’t hold back. I leaned in, eye contact so intense it looked like I was about to kiss him. The kind of stare that would’ve made a Showa-era delinquent proud.

To his credit, the guy was a master of passive-aggression. No matter how many times I threw daggers with my eyes, he never flinched. Never reacted. Just kept pretending I wasn’t even there.

With this silent war brewing between us, it was no wonder Arthur looked like he was aging by the hour.

“You two are children,” he groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose before patting my shoulder.

Then he leaned in with a resigned sigh.

“Y’know, Ryuto… I think Brian might actually have a point.”

“What do you mean by that?” I asked.

Arthur hesitated for a moment, then gave a small shrug, as if he didn’t want to say it but felt someone needed to.

“Look, no offense, but… I think you’re probably one of the ones who won’t make it through this camp. Your aptitude’s Villager, right? Honestly, I’m more surprised you even managed to pass the entrance exam. That alone’s impressive.”

Wow. A compliment and a death sentence in the same breath.

“But,” he continued, his tone turning serious, “now that you’re here, we’re all on the same playing field. And if we’re working together, I need you to keep up. So just don’t drag the rest of us down, alright?”

“Got it. So you’re one of those guys too…” I scratched the back of my head, already over the conversation, and picked up my pre-packed toiletries from the bunk. “Whatever. I’m hitting the bath.”

By the time I returned from the large communal bath, the dormitory hallway was alive with voices, movement, and nervous tension. Something had changed while I was gone.

Every door now had a notice posted.

Groups of students clustered in front of the rooms, murmuring among themselves. It wasn’t just idle curiosity; it was a rising unease. Some kind of announcement had clearly set the dorm on edge.

I spotted Arthur and Brian among the crowd, but I didn’t bother talking to them. Instead, I made my way to the door of our room and focused on the paper taped there.

Whoa… you’ve got to be kidding me.

The posted notice was short, but what it said sent a ripple of disbelief down the hall.

The notice listed the daily training schedule in precise, merciless detail:

• 6:00–7:30 — Warm-up and a 10-kilometer run

• 7:30–8:30 — Breakfast

• 8:30–9:00 — Morning meeting

• 9:00–10:00 — Strength training

• 10:00–12:00 — Magic theory lectures

• 12:00–13:00 — Lunch

• 13:00–14:00 — Another 10-kilometer run

• 14:00–15:00 — Bodyweight exercises

• 15:00–16:00 — Close-quarters combat training

• 16:00–17:00 — Practical magic training

• 17:00–18:00 — Yet another 10-kilometer run

• 18:00–19:00 — Dinner

• 19:00–20:00 — Equipment-based weight training

• 20:00–21:00 — A final 5-kilometer run, followed by bathing

• 21:00–22:00 — Free time

• 22:00 — Lights out

And at the bottom, in cold, matter-of-fact lettering: “All training must be conducted while wearing the Shackles of Golgotha.”

In other words, no enhancement spells. No magic-assisted strength. No shortcuts.

“This is insane.”

The words left my mouth before I even realized I’d said them. This wasn’t a training schedule; it was a war crime.

The shackles, from what I’d heard, were designed to suppress magical flow and nullify all non-physical boosts. The rule didn’t just ban body-enhancing enchantments; it banned the very use of magic points for anything other than spellcasting, which meant no shortcuts. No stamina boosts. No reflex amplifiers. Nothing.

They want us to push through this entire nightmare on raw, unmodified muscle alone.

Here’s the catch most people didn’t understand: “pure muscle strength” wasn’t the same as the “Strength” stat on your character sheet. The former was literally what your body could do without help. The latter was a combination of base stats and magical multipliers. When someone cast a body reinforcement spell, it temporarily spiked that number to supernatural levels.

Take me, for example. My body was so unnaturally durable that even when the instructor slugged me earlier, he took more damage than I did. In modern-day Japan? You’d need to bring out an anti-materiel rifle just to leave a scratch. It was absurd to think about.

Now, I could give you the full breakdown of this world’s stat system, but we’d be here all day. Long story short: even without casting enhancement spells, our physical capabilities were constantly augmented by our accumulated base stats. The world’s rules naturally reinforced our bodies based on those numbers. It was like passive buffing, embedded into reality itself.

Which is exactly why the Shackles of Golgotha are such a problem.

“A cursed item? What are we, prisoners?” Arthur grumbled nearby, voicing exactly what I was thinking.

To his credit, he gave the clearest explanation. The shackles were originally used to restrain convicts and slaves. Their enchantment overrode all stat-based enhancements, forcibly suppressing every boost and leaving only what your natural, unassisted body could do.

For most of the students here, whose stats probably weren’t far off from regular townsfolk, that didn’t make a huge difference. But for me? The difference was massive. The second I put those shackles on, it would feel like someone had ripped the engine out of my body. If a high-level monster attacked while I was wearing them… Let’s just say it wouldn’t be funny.

Luckily, I’d already learned a trick for that. I could slip out of the shackles in under a second if I really needed to.

Brian’s indignant voice cut through my thoughts.

“This is absurd. We came here to study magic, didn’t we? And yet, the majority of our time is being wasted on physical conditioning. Not even magical conditioning. Just brute-force strength training. It’s inefficient.”

And he wasn’t wrong.

If you really wanted to get stronger in this world, the best route was leveling up through combat, raising your stats by defeating monsters, or refining your enhancement-type spells. Pure physical strength? It was limited. No matter how hard you trained, there was a ceiling. For a normal human, that limit was running a hundred meters in roughly ten seconds, and that was pushing it. In this world, though? If you wanted to be taken seriously as a combat class, even as a magic user, you needed physical stats on par with an Olympic athlete. That was the baseline for a rookie adventurer.

Arthur’s frustration was boiling over now, fueled by Brian’s cold logic.

“They don’t want to train us,” he growled, hands clenched at his sides. “That’s not what this is about at all. They’re just screwing with us, bullying us until we quit. That’s the whole point!”

“Indeed,” Brian said, voice low and grim. “At this stage, it’s hard to come to any other conclusion.”

“This place is supposed to determine if we’re fit to be magic users! Instead, it’s just abuse. This whole thing is insane!”

But me? I couldn’t help but grin.

“Huh. So this facility’s actually not half bad after all. In fact, I’m surprised. The instructors are way more considerate than I expected.”

Arthur whipped around, his shoulder-length blond hair swishing behind him, eyes narrowed in disbelief.

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“I mean it,” I said with a shrug. “This isn’t bad. Honestly? I think they’re being pretty kind.”

Brian scoffed, his voice dripping with disdain.

“You don’t even understand the basics of how to grow stronger, do you? Incredible. I didn’t think your idiocy extended to your brain, too. Being assigned to your team isn’t just useless; it’s actively detrimental.”

I didn’t bother replying. With a sigh that came from the bottom of my soul, I turned away and stepped out into the hallway.

Let them huff and puff. I’ve got more important things to focus on.

“Whatever. I’m turning in. According to that schedule, tomorrow starts bright and early. Night.”

※※※

The next morning, at six a.m. sharp, all forty-five members of the bottom-tier class were gathered out on the Academy’s old training ground. After a quick, fifteen-minute round of stretching, we were ordered to run three full laps around the building’s perimeter.

As I jogged through the morning mist, a familiar voice chimed in beside me, light and musical.

“Ryuto-kun, isn’t it strange?” asked Koharu Saegusa, our miko-garbed exchange student from the east, peering up at me with curious eyes.

For the record, I hadn’t spoken a word to Arthur or Brian since last night.

“What’s so strange?” I asked, keeping my pace steady.

Koharu, jogging beside me in her flowing shrine maiden robes, pointed off toward the outer perimeter of the grounds.

“Out there. Beyond the outer wall. Just fifty meters past the Academy… It’s an entirely different world, right? The Great Labyrinthine Forest, the one crawling with monsters. But…”

“But there’s nothing breaching the border,” I finished for her. “No trees, no beasts. Not even vines get past the fifty-meter mark.”

She nodded vigorously, her eyes wide with wonder. “Yes! That’s exactly it!”

“It’s because this place became the final defense line during the last Great Calamity,” I explained. “The barrier that’s been cast over this area is no joke. We’re talking top-tier divine warding. Kingdom-grade magic.”

“Fascinating,” she murmured, tilting her head and staring up at me, utterly entranced.

Like a kitten discovering mirrors.

“Come on, they went over all this during orientation,” I muttered, giving her a light bop on the head with my knuckles. “Try listening next time.”

“Ow… That hurt…”

I wasn’t sure why, but something about her reminded me of Lilith. She had the same kind of harmless vibe. The kind that made you feel like giving her a friendly knock on the head wasn’t just allowed but expected.

“Well, anyway,” I said, brushing off the thought, “Where’s Lilith? You’re bunking together in the girls’ dorm, right?”

Koharu’s face lit up as she clapped her hands, then immediately shifted to a sluggish scowl. She dropped her voice a few octaves in a lazy, deadpan tone.

“Low blood pressure. Morning training… Pass.”

The impression was spot-on. I nearly doubled over from laughing.

So she’s got mimicry chops, too? Not bad. Looks like this little animal’s got some bite.

Then something about her answer nagged at me.

“Wait. She skipped morning training? Is that even allowed?”

“Sure,” Koharu said with a nod. “She’s in the elite class, remember? Those students can choose whether or not to attend this camp.”

“Right… Makes sense.”

“Even the training regimen for scholarship students is elective,” Koharu explained, her voice soft but certain. “If they don’t opt in, the schedule just defaults to self-study.”

You’ve got to be kidding me. I stared at her, speechless. “That’s seriously allowed?”

“It makes sense in a way,” she replied, tapping her chin thoughtfully. “Let the capable students learn freely, give them room to grow. And the useless ones? Squeeze them dry until they either snap or shape up.”

I let out a long sigh. “Well, fair point.” But then I gave a firm nod, as if settling something deep in my gut. “Whatever. Starting tomorrow, she’s joining us.”

“Huh? But Lilith is… She’s clearly competent. Wouldn’t self-study be more efficient for her than this insane muscle-building bootcamp?”

“This life,” I said quietly, “is not so bad.”

She tilted her head, puzzled. “I don’t get it.”

“I said, it’s not bad,” I repeated, looking out toward the forest with narrowed eyes. “This training isn’t half as stupid as it looks.”

Koharu pondered my words in silence before asking, “Why do you think that?”

“Because the system here is simple,” I said. “If we meet the Academy’s performance threshold, we’re done in a month. If we don’t, we keep grinding—another month, then another—until six months pass. Fail to pass by then? You’re gone. Voluntary withdrawal.”

She nodded slowly. “Yes, that’s exactly how I heard it explained. Six months to prove yourself or get out.”

“Then let’s be real about it.” I turned to her, my voice dropping to a low, even tone. “How many people in this camp have the talent to become court magicians? Or even top-tier adventurers?”

“Almost none,” she admitted. “The truly gifted ones were never placed in this class to begin with.”

“Exactly. Even if someone scrapes through this camp and makes it to the regular track, best-case scenario? They’ll wind up as some third-rate adventurer. The diploma’s just for show. It won’t land them high pay, unlike the others who finish up top.”

There were, in fact, two tiers of graduation certificates: second-tier and first-tier. And whether you were trying to join the Royal Court or register with an elite guild, that distinction mattered. A second-tier certificate was barely more than a piece of paper. Only first-tier grads were truly recognized as alumni of the Magic Academy, at least in the eyes of society.

“Yeah, that’s probably how it’ll go,” Koharu murmured.

“And if someone drops out here, then what? They end up hauling crates in some back alley job or scraping by as a fourth-rate adventurer.”

She fell silent.

“Pass or fail, most of the people here are headed for lives covered in sweat and dirt,” I continued. “There’s no glamour in either path.”

“So?”

“So we’ve got six months. And during that time, we can build ourselves up. Doesn’t matter whether they make it through this camp or not, whether they become adventurers or laborers. If they put in the work now, their bodies won’t betray them. That strength will carry over, one way or another.”

“I see.”

“The real purpose of this camp is to spot magical potential. Some people bloom in days, others take months. If you focused on magic training from the start, sure, it might help the naturally gifted. But for everyone else, it’d just be a waste.”

“You’re amazing, Ryuto-kun,” Koharu whispered, her voice tinged with admiration as she exhaled slowly, sensually. “I never even thought about it that way.” She tilted her head, still pondering. “But why bring Lilith into this? She clearly has talent. Wouldn’t she benefit more from solo study, refining her magic techniques on her own?”

“We’re different. Lilith and I… we’re special.”

“Special?” she echoed, puzzled.

“You’ll understand eventually,” I said simply.

The truth was, I’d already done everything I could to get stronger. Lilith still had some room to grow, but when it came to what the Academy could offer? She’d already mastered it long ago. The only area we’d both neglected was pure physical strength. Which made this setup, this insane camp regimen, surprisingly convenient for us.

Apparently, Cordelia made strength training a daily routine, considering it the foundation of everything. And honestly, after reaching a certain level, building up your physical base wasn’t meaningless. As far as one-month tune-up periods went, this wasn’t a bad deal at all.

“Alright, it’s almost time.” I glanced up at the old wall-mounted clock on the side of the dorm building. It was 6:15 a.m., right on schedule.

“So it’s time for the morning run,” Koharu murmured quietly beside me.

“Yeah. If we don’t finish the ten kilometers by 7:30, everyone’s breakfast gets halved. And with Arthur and Brian in our group, we don’t want to be the reason they come down on us. That said, ten clicks isn’t exactly hell. If you’ve got average stamina, it’s doable.”

Broken down, it was a seven-and-a-half-minute kilometer pace. Not exactly demanding. Even in a world that undervalued raw physical strength, no sixteen-year-old boy living a normal life should struggle with that. No one here looked grossly overweight or anything. Everyone should be able to manage it.

Sure, by the time we hit the evening run, fatigue would probably start to drag people down. But at that point, a few recovery spells would take care of most issues.

That was when Koharu lowered her lashes, her voice suddenly so small it could vanish into the wind.

“Um… about that…”

“Hm?”

She hesitated, then confessed, “I… I grew up in a household where I was never allowed to lift anything heavier than chopsticks or a teacup.”

What?

I blinked at her, struggling to process the words. “Wait, what?”

“Running, walking long distances, anything like that… I’ve basically never done it.”

No way. My brain just stopped. Froze. Needed a second to buffer.

A few silent seconds ticked by before her statement finally rewired itself into something intelligible.

“You mean to say…”

Looking up at me with a face full of genuine guilt, she whispered, “There’s absolutely no way I can run ten kilometers.”

Even I had to admit defeat on this one. Turned out Koharu Saegusa, our precious little exchange student from the east, was—without exaggeration—completely and utterly useless when it came to physical activity. She was the very definition of a sheltered princess. A porcelain doll.

In the end, she hadn’t even managed to run a single kilometer before giving up.

“Wow…” I muttered.

And it wasn’t just me. The entire class stood frozen in disbelief.

Even the instructor, who typically seemed to have rage on standby, looked dumbfounded, mouth slightly agape, gaze drifting skyward as if he were trying to mentally reboot. Apparently, this level of incompetence was a first even for him.

“Your entire squad’s getting half rations for breakfast,” he said flatly. “As for your own disciplinary review, I’ll have to consult with my superiors. This is just… unprecedented.”

With that, he staggered away like a man questioning all his life choices, vanishing back inside the school building.

And so, we returned to the dorms, rinsed off quickly, and made our way to the main dining hall.

This collective punishment thing… Yeah, it’s brutal.

Getting half a meal didn’t just mean smaller portions; it meant nearly nothing. No bread, just two slices of dried meat and a sad bowl of dehydrated vegetable soup.

It was like some twisted version of a low-carb diabetic meal plan. Instead of managing blood sugar, it was designed to destroy morale and energy.

No carbs means no fuel. If this keeps up, we’ll be running on empty before lunch. I sighed heavily, staring down at my pitiful tray.

“Why is there no bread?”

Seated beside me at the five-person squad table, Lilith furrowed her brow in confusion.

“There was this girl who couldn’t run to save her life. I mean, really next-level stuff.”

“I see. Koharu messed up.” Lilith nodded slowly, accepting the situation with the weary resignation of someone who’d long since expected the worst. “Acknowledged.”

Lilith didn’t say a word. She simply speared a strip of dried meat with her fork and brought it to her lips.

“Huh? You’re not gonna chew Koharu out?” I asked, watching her out of the corner of my eye. “You do realize this might not be a one-time thing, right? There’s a good chance our meals will keep getting halved from here on out.”

She paused briefly, then answered in her usual deadpan tone.

“Whining about what we don’t have won’t change anything. And yelling at Koharu for something she physically can’t do is just pointless. If we’re gonna be hungry, we might as well start thinking about how to fix that ourselves.”

Fair point.

Lilith and I had more than our fair share of experience wandering through untamed wilds and monster-infested ruins. Our survival skills were, not to brag, top-tier. While most students wouldn’t dare set foot in the cursed Forest of Welim, for us, it was about as threatening as a walk through the park.

Hunting, foraging, even setting traps. We could eat like kings if we wanted to.

That said, I glanced across the table at Arthur and Brian. They hadn’t spoken a word since sitting down, but it didn’t take a genius to tell they were both fuming. Their clenched jaws, twitching fingers, and the way they barely touched their food made it obvious.

And right on cue, Koharu made everything worse.

“Um, Arthur-kun?” she ventured timidly, eyes wide and voice laced with guilt.

“What?” Arthur didn’t even look at her.

“I was just wondering, would you maybe like my dried meat? I mean, I know it’s not much, but I feel really bad about this.”

Arthur scoffed. “I don’t want it.”

“But I… If I just sit here and do nothing, I’ll feel terrible…”

She tried to offer her share anyway, reaching across the table with her fork.

And then, disaster struck.

Her oversized miko sleeve snagged the edge of her soup bowl. The thing tipped, spilling its contents all over the table, and worse, a good portion of it sloshed straight onto Arthur’s lap.

Oh crap. I slapped both hands over my face in secondhand embarrassment.

“Ah! Ahh! I-I’m so sorry! I really, really am!” Koharu babbled, pale and flustered as she scrambled to clean up the mess.

Arthur glared down at the soup-soaked fabric of his pants. “You’re lucky,” he muttered coldly. “My father drilled one thing into me as a kid: never hit a woman.”

Then, without warning, he grabbed Koharu by the front of her robes and pulled her close, his voice low and venomous.

“If I hadn’t been taught that… I’d have knocked your useless ass straight across the room. Stupid goddamn girl.”

The words hit like a slap. Koharu froze mid-apology, her face paling as her eyes welled up with tears. She let out a broken, breathless whimper—something between a sob and a gasp—and clamped a hand over her mouth. Without another word, she turned and bolted.

Probably the restroom. Either to cry or to puke.

I scanned the room. Lilith and Brian continued eating in silence, not even sparing Koharu a glance. Arthur, still scowling, furiously dabbed his lap with a napkin.

Yeah, this is turning ugly fast.

I let out a sigh and rolled my shoulders, tension settling heavy across them.

※※※

After the trainwreck that was breakfast, we were herded into the gymnasium. According to the schedule, this half-hour slot was supposed to be for a class meeting, but day one seemed to come with a few alterations.

Apparently, this time would be used for a rundown of the gym’s facilities.

I tilted my head back and whistled low. The ceiling had to be at least thirty meters high, easily tall enough for flight-based magic battles. This wasn’t just a gym; it was a battlefield designed for aerial combat training. But what really drew everyone’s gaze was the thick rope hanging from the ceiling, about five centimeters in diameter, swaying faintly in the morning air.

While we all stared, intrigued, the instructor gave a wolfish grin and spoke in a voice that promised trouble.

“This rope,” the instructor began, gesturing to the thick cord dangling from the rafters, “is to be climbed barefoot, using nothing but your arms and legs. No tricks. No spells. Just raw, physical strength.”

A low murmur swept through the gym as everyone stared upward at the seemingly endless length of rope. The instructor’s voice took on a faint note of amusement.

“Of all the students who’ve tried over the years, only a handful have ever reached the top. But hey, let’s call it a fun little bonus challenge. Anyone care to give it a shot?”

Silence. Not a soul moved. Not a single hand was raised.

After what had happened with Koharu earlier that morning, her spectacular failure during the warm-up run, and the resulting punishment of half rations, no one was willing to risk dragging their group down. The threat of a collective penalty weighed heavily on everyone.

“Instructor, sir. Permission to ask a question?” Arthur’s voice rang out, formal and calm.

The instructor gave a short nod. “Permission granted. Speak, Arthur Markham.”

“From your earlier remarks, I gather this challenge is of considerable difficulty. In that case, would those who succeed be eligible for any sort of reward?”

A thoughtful hum escaped the instructor as he stroked his chin. “I’ll see to it you get bonus marks added to your final assessment.”

That was all it took. The mood flipped like a switch.

“Instructor! I’d like to try too!”

“Me as well, sir! Please let me attempt it!”

Excitement spread like wildfire as students clamored for a chance to prove themselves. But the instructor held up a hand, silencing the crowd.

“However, anyone who fails to reach even a third of the way up will be penalized instead. Significantly.”

The room fell silent again. Hopes sank faster than they’d risen. But amid the retreating fervor, Arthur stepped forward without hesitation.

“Instructor,” he said steadily, “may I attempt the challenge?”

The instructor arched a brow. “Well now, you seem confident.”

Arthur’s mouth curled into a self-deprecating smile. “I’m the third son of a poor noble house. No talent for magic. No talent for the sword. No wealth. No genius. I’ve got nothing, absolutely nothing to my name.”

“Hmph…”

“But that’s exactly why I’ve done everything I can to get stronger. I’ve trained every single day. That includes raw, physical strength.”

With that, he turned on his heel and walked toward the rope. Calmly, he kicked off his shoes and stepped onto the mat in bare feet.

“May I begin now?”

The instructor nodded. “Go ahead.”

Without hesitation, Arthur grasped the rope and began to climb. His arms pulled while his legs scissored tightly around the thick hemp, anchoring him upward with a steady rhythm. There was some technique involved, sure, but this was, at its core, a test of raw explosive power. Less finesse, more brute force. A vertical sprint in disguise.

The moment he started, murmurs rippled through the watching crowd. It was understandable. Arthur was scaling the rope with shocking speed. In mere seconds, he’d cleared the ten-meter mark, the very threshold the instructor had declared as the penalty cut-off.

“He’s amazing! Arthur, you’re amazing! Keep going!”

That cheer came bright and shrill from Koharu, beaming as she clapped her hands like an overenthusiastic child.

Wait, didn’t he just grab her by the collar and shout her down this morning? I blinked, baffled by her ability to bounce back from that, as it had never happened. Is she actually kind of an airhead?

I cast a sidelong glance at Lilith. She, too, was watching Koharu with a look of faint disbelief, her head shaking slowly. Yeah. I’m not the only one thinking it.

Arthur pressed on. Fifteen meters. Halfway. But his momentum faltered.

Anyone who’s done pull-ups knows how this goes. At first, your body moves with surprising ease: three, four, five reps. No problem. But then, without warning, the fatigue hits like a freight train. One moment you’re fine, the next your muscles just stop responding.

You think, Okay, that was tough, and then, one rep later, you realize, Nope. That’s it. I’m done.

If you’re stubborn, you might squeeze out one last lift on sheer willpower. But after that? Dead weight. Your arms might as well be noodles.

That was where Arthur was now, on the edge of collapse.

The instructor, perhaps sensing it, called out, “I may not look it now, but I used to be a C-rank adventurer. I’ll cast wind magic to soften your fall, so just let go.”

C-rank. Not bad, honestly. In some backwoods village, that might qualify you as a local legend.

Arthur reached his limit. His grip slipped, and he fell.

Wrapped gently in a membrane of air magic, Arthur landed softly and slowly pushed himself upright. His eyes were glazed, his voice hollow with disbelief.

“This… can’t be. I trained. I trained so damn hard…”

The instructor stepped forward, his expression unexpectedly sincere.

“Arthur Markham, right? I’ll be honest with you. I’m impressed. Since I started overseeing the lowest-ranked class’s training camps, you’re the first to make it that far on day one.” But then, the instructor shook his head slowly, pity bleeding into the hard edge of his voice. “Here’s the thing. When it comes to raw strength, just pure unboosted muscle, talent matters far less than it does with magic. Anyone can reach a high level if they put in the work. That’s the brutal beauty of it.”

He snorted softly.

“Only a handful have ever cleared this test. But some have. Which means one thing: you didn’t fail because of a lack of talent. You failed because you didn’t work hard enough. Maybe now you understand your place, little frog in a very big well?”

Arthur slumped, his shoulders sagging as the shame hit.

“Ugh, damn it…”

The instructor scanned the room with a theatrical sigh. “Alright, enough of this farce—”

“Hey, uh, teach?” I stepped forward, cutting him off before he could wrap things up.

He squinted at me. “What is it now, Ryuto Maclaine? And how many times do I have to tell you… Watch your damn tone. Want another taste of what happened on day one?”

If you hit me again, you’re the only one who’ll end up in pain. I smirked internally, but I let that one slide.

Instead, I lifted my chin and asked, “Mind if I give it a shot?”

The instructor’s eyebrows arched. “Did you not see how that went for Arthur just now?”

“I saw it. Every second. But I’ve got a damn good reason to clear this thing.”

“A good reason, huh? Let me guess, you want the bonus points too?”

I shook my head. “Nah. I just want to eat. A full meal, not half rations. That’s my reward.”

The instructor blinked. “Food?”

The instructor tilted his head, a vague look of confusion on his face.

I jabbed a thumb toward Koharu and said with a grin, “This guy’s definitely gonna screw something up during training sooner or later. So how about this: if I clear it, we scrap the half rations punishment for good?”

“Hmm. I don’t really get what you’re on about, but suit yourself. No one’s ever managed this on day one anyway.”

Clapping my hands twice, I stepped toward the rope without looking back.

There are plenty of theories about what causes muscle fatigue. The most well-known one blames lactic acid, a byproduct of intense exercise that supposedly builds up and messes with muscle function. But more recent research suggests something different. Some say it’s not the lactic acid but shifts in calcium and potassium ion concentrations within the body. When those ions are thrown off balance by extreme exertion, the neural circuits begin to falter. The signals can’t get through. Muscles stop contracting properly.

Whatever the explanation…

Push a muscle close to its limit for long enough, and it turns stupid. It stops listening. That’s something every human being can feel, instinctively, just like growing up, aging, and eventually dying. It’s not a maybe. It’s law. Immutable.

Just moments ago, Arthur had tried the same thirty-meter stretch and hit his wall at fifteen. By seventeen, he’d lost his grip and plummeted.

Without stat boosts or physical enhancement, I’m a regular guy too. I’m not foolish enough to believe I’ve got this in the bag.

But if I don’t do this now, Koharu’s going to end up in an even worse spot.

Besides, I’m curious about how far my strength has come.

Sure, I’ve focused everything on efficiency, optimizing for results over raw power. Pure physical strength? That’s one area I haven’t exactly prioritized.

Still, it wasn’t as if I’d completely ignored strength training. Sure, I prioritized efficiency above all else, but I’d thrown in the occasional set of push-ups or crunches when I had the time. Nothing serious, just enough to keep the basics from rusting. It was never the focus, but I hadn’t entirely skipped the fundamentals either.

Arthur, on the other hand, claimed he’d pushed himself to the absolute limit. That was how he described it. He’d given it everything he had and still crashed at seventeen meters.

I believe in the road I’ve walked. Since the Dragon Zombie in the Dragon’s Domain, I’ve bled from the mouth, shed bloody tears, and even pissed blood. I’ve survived things that don’t belong in this world. In that sense, I suppose I’ve already stepped outside the bounds of normal human experience. I’m not saying Arthur didn’t try. I’m sure he trained seriously. But there’s a difference between us. Two, actually.

First, I had the tutorial. And second, I had access to mountains of training knowledge, the kind of practical wisdom that turns effort into results. That alone makes comparing us feel unfair. And yet… I still want to know.

Arthur said he’d trained everything, including raw muscle power. And I, in contrast, had only ever treated strength training like a side quest. So why did it feel like our definitions of “training” were worlds apart? Just how wide was the gap between his best and my casual?

I slapped both cheeks with open palms. I need to focus.

I reached out and gripped the rope, testing its texture. Rough. Dry. Utterly lacking in grace, but somehow, that raw simplicity felt reassuring. With a sharp breath, I leapt.

My hands clutched the rope as my legs locked it in. The climb began. My lats bore most of the load, my back muscles burning with each pull. My legs offered what support they could, but this was an upper-body fight from the start. There was no room for pacing or steady breathing. This wasn’t an endurance event; it was a single, explosive push. One shot to break through.

I forgot to breathe. My world narrowed to the next grip. The next pull.

Then I heard it, murmurs rising from the ground below.

I looked down.

A red line wrapped around the rope beneath me, marking the twenty-meter point.

But in that same instant, a creeping discomfort spread through my biceps and back. Not pain exactly, just a tightening, a heavy stiffness crawling under the skin.

This… isn’t good.

In this kind of high-load training, the warning signs wouldn’t come in stages. The moment you felt fatigue was the moment your arms stopped working. There was no grace period. No second wind. That was why the only way to succeed was to finish the climb before your body began screaming.

So, I pushed harder. Faster.

My muscles burned, tendons pulling taut, as I clawed upward. Before my body could protest, I forced it to keep moving, to accelerate.

Another wave of astonished murmurs rose from the ground below as I surged higher.

Twenty-five meters. Just five more to reach the top and clear the mission.

And then, everything stopped.

My arms locked up.

Shit.

They wouldn’t move. The strength had just… vanished. Worse still, sharp tremors began rippling through my biceps and across my back. My lats twitched uncontrollably, like power lines shorting out beneath the skin.

That was when I heard faint but clear voices from far below.

“Koharu?” Lilith’s voice drifted upward, unusually low and analytical.

“What is it?” Koharu responded cautiously, eyes likely locked on my still form.

“His muscles are fully saturated with fatigue. They’ve lost the ability to function at their proper output,” Lilith murmured, her tone cool, clinical. “That’s the state Ryuto is in now.”

“So, that means he’s going to fall?” Koharu asked, a thread of worry slipping into her voice. “Like Arthur did?”

“Don’t be absurd.” Lilith’s reply came sharply, pride swelling in her voice. “My partner, Ryuto Maclaine, he still has something beyond all that.”

“Partner?” Koharu echoed, eyebrows probably raised. “Okay, sure, but what exactly do you mean by that?”

“Even if his status is sealed, even if he’s forbidden from using magic or physical enhancement…” Lilith’s voice lowered, tinged with something almost reverent. “Ryuto still has that.”

“‘That’ being what exactly?”

I didn’t let her finish.

A roar tore from my throat, primal and raw, erupting from somewhere deeper than lungs or belly. It came from the core, the last furnace of a body on the verge of collapse.

“AAARGGHHH!!!”

My arm wouldn’t move. A sharp spasm shot through my lats, locking my joints for a heartbeat, and then another. But I didn’t care. So what if my body’s falling apart? I’m the strongest damn villager in the world.

【Skill: Indomitable Will activated.】

Lactic acid? Bring it on. Potassium ions, calcium ions? Who gives a damn about concentrations right now? Muscle fatigue meant nothing to me; it was like soft autumn breeze brushing past my skin. I tore through it without hesitation, forcing my body to accelerate again. Pain screamed through every muscle fiber, but my will shouted louder.

That said, I wasn’t dumb enough to push it too far. Tear a muscle, and I’d be benched for real. This was a one-time gamble. Just this once, I’d bulldoze through it on sheer guts alone. Willpower could override a lot of things, but it couldn’t rewrite physics. There were limits to what a human body could take.

I blasted upward, cutting through the air like a missile. At the peak, just as my fingers tapped the ceiling, I twisted midair and shouted down, “Instructor! Cushion is on you! I’m falling, so be ready!”

At that exact moment, I manually released the stat restraints from the Shackles of Golgotha. No way was I gonna dive from thirty meters with the physical specs of a typical modern Japanese guy. And to top it off, the one assigned to catch me, the instructor? Yeah, not exactly comforting.

Still, I figured Lilith had probably set up a layered spell field to slow my descent. She was cautious like that. I trusted her.

And then I felt it. A breeze, gentle but firm. The wind barrier the instructor summoned enveloped me like a soft glove, cushioning my fall. A second later, I touched down.

The murmurs hit me before the dust even settled.

“He actually did it…”

“No way. Seriously?”

“They say almost no one’s ever cleared that. And even then, only after months of muscle training. But this guy? On day one?”

Their awe washed over me, quiet and electric. I didn’t say a word. I turned toward the instructor and lifted my right hand, thumb up. That was enough.

“As for holding us all responsible for Koharu’s screw-ups,” I said, crossing my arms, “I’d like that policy permanently waived from now on.”

The instructor paused for a moment, mulling it over. Then he gave a small, thoughtful nod. “Fair enough. If I got stingy with the rewards here, it’d only kill morale for everyone. I’ll allow it.”

I nodded in return, satisfied. But before I could step away, Arthur approached, his brows drawn tight, confusion and frustration all over his face.

“Why?” he asked, voice low and raw. “Why would a Villager like you… someone like you… be able to surpass me after all the hellish training I went through?”

I let out a dry, tired laugh. “Sorry, but I guess my training wasn’t exactly normal either.” I gave him a look, not smug, just honest. “Didn’t the instructor say as much? I don’t know what kind of ‘hell’ you went through, but if this is the best you’ve got…” I shrugged. “Sounds like you just didn’t work hard enough.”

He froze, expression twisting as the words hit. Clearly, he hadn’t expected me to throw it back that bluntly. He stood there, chewing on his pride, until his frustration boiled over. Then he turned toward the instructor, his voice rising in protest.

“Sir! For the afternoon’s close-combat drills, surely you’re not planning to have us wear the Shackles of Golgotha again, right?”

The instructor shook his head. “No. That would completely defeat the purpose of combat training.”

Arthur’s shoulders dropped slightly with relief. Then he turned back to me with a crooked smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “The drills are done in pairs. Why don’t you partner with me, Ryuto Maclaine?”

I raised an eyebrow. “Why me?”

He snorted, lips curling in contempt. “Because I can’t stand the idea of some muscle-headed commoner getting full of himself just because he managed to outperform me.”

Ah. So that’s it.

Honestly, I wasn’t the type who liked standing out. I didn’t care to humiliate people, and I definitely wasn’t into bullying the weak. But if someone was practically asking to be embarrassed in front of the whole class? I didn’t see any reason to hold back.

“Well, I guess I don’t have much of a choice,” I said with a shrug. “Fine. I accept.”

Arthur’s grin widened, this time with genuine amusement. “Don’t complain if I end up hurting you. You won’t get any sympathy from me.”

I didn’t dignify that with a response. Just gave a slow shrug, deliberately exaggerated, like I couldn’t even be bothered to take the threat seriously.

The message was clear as day: That’s my line, dumbass.

The sharp cry rang out just as I was sitting down to eat. Koharu’s voice cut through the lunchtime din of the cafeteria like a knife, shrill with panic. “There’s no way a Villager like you can win!” she cried, drawing eyes from every direction.

I didn’t answer. No point. I already knew where this was going.

“He’s a noble, for heaven’s sake! Even if he’s not the best, he’s been training since he was a kid! You don’t stand a chance against someone like that!” Her voice was trembling now, barely holding itself together. “You can’t win! It’s reckless! You need to withdraw from the mock battle right now!”

Still, I kept quiet. Her outburst was embarrassing enough without me adding fuel to the fire.

But then she said it again, “Villager,” and something in me snapped.

“Villager, Villager, Villager. You keep saying that like it means something. So what?”

She froze, eyes wide. But not for long.

“That’s why it’s reckless!” she insisted, louder than before. “You’re just a Villager! You’ll get hurt—”

“Enough.” The word sliced in like a blade.

It came from Lilith. Her voice was calm, but it held venom. She looked Koharu dead in the eye, lips curled in contempt. “Shut your damn mouth, you squealing sow.”

My chair scraped back as I jumped up. “Whoa, whoa, whoa! Lilith, why are you the one getting pissed off here?!”

She barely glanced at me. “What kind of wife wouldn’t be furious when someone insults her husband?”

“Husband?”

Right. I’d been aware, vaguely, that I might be sitting on some kind of emotional landmine. But hearing her say it so openly, here of all places, made it clear that this particular bomb was live and ticking. If I acknowledged that statement now, in front of everyone, there’d be no walking it back.

I was still trying to figure out how to steer the conversation off a cliff when Brian, short, silver-haired, and perpetually smug, decided it was the perfect time to join in.

“You really are an idiot,” he said, not even trying to hide his amusement.

The three of us turned to stare at him in confusion. I blinked, then narrowed my eyes. “Wait. Weren’t you refusing to speak to me?”

Brian just grinned and gave me a jaunty thumbs-up. “This kind of thing? Other people’s misery? That’s prime entertainment. No need to stick to the rules right now.”

I stared at him, deadpan. Of course, he’s that kind of guy.

Die. Just drop dead, you smug little bastard.

I sighed and turned my attention back to him. “So? What’s your point, Brian?”

In response to my question, Brian launched into one of his overly articulate explanations, clearly enjoying himself far too much.

“He’s the third son of a dirt-poor noble family.”

“Yeah, I know that much,” I said with a nod.

“And his father,” Brian continued, undeterred, “was apparently the knight commander of a certain kingdom up until the previous generation, anyway.”

That made me raise an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“He got ousted,” Brian added with a sly grin. “By a man known as the Orc Killer. From there, the family fell into disgrace, and after a series of demotions, they ended up where they are now, barely scraping by as impoverished nobility.”

And just like that, it all clicked.

The Orc Killer? That would be Bernard, my old swordmaster.

Man, that name takes me back. It’s been ages since I’ve thought about him. I really should visit sometime. I tried to get him to quit drinking more times than I could count… I wonder if he ever actually stopped. I still have a stash of that immortal-grade sake lying around. Letting him have a night with it wouldn’t hurt. Worst case, the elixir blend I have can patch up whatever liver damage it causes.

Brian went on, oblivious to my trip down memory lane. “From childhood, he’s been trained intensively in swordsmanship and physical enhancement. His whole life’s been focused on becoming a weapon.”

I smirked. “And yet, I already outclassed him in raw strength.”

“Yes, well.” Brian sniffed. “You’re a Villager. With no natural talent, no impressive stats, no growth potential from skills, you had no choice but to grind away at pure muscle like an idiot until something finally stuck.”

Before I could fire back, he clapped his hands as if drawing a conclusion. “Anyway, he’s nobility. Born and raised to fight. There’s no logical reason a Villager should be able to win.”

Despite the condescending tone, I didn’t bother arguing. What mattered wasn’t background; it was results. And those would come soon enough.

After lunch, we moved on to the ten-kilometer run, followed by a solid round of bodyweight training. And then, 3:00 p.m. Time for the close-quarters combat exercise.

Arthur and I stood across from each other in the gymnasium, paired up as scheduled. Everyone in the room knew exactly what had gone down between us that morning. You could feel it in the air: the tension, the expectation. All eyes were on us.

According to the briefing, the class had been split into over twenty pairs, each of which would spar at full strength when the instructor gave the signal. Normally, students would dial it back to avoid injuries, but in our case, it was different. Arthur and I had already agreed to hold nothing back. No complaints, no mercy. We were treating this like a personal duel.

Which was exactly why everyone, including the instructors, was watching us like hawks, waiting to see what would happen the moment the match began.

Arthur stood opposite me in the center of the gym, holding his practice sword with theatrical flair and wearing a grin that screamed overconfidence. He looked like he thought this was already over before it began.

“Hey, Villager,” he said, his voice loud enough for the rest of the class to hear. “Do you know what it means to understand your place?”

I let out a slow, tired sigh as I raised my own sword and settled into a stance. “And you,” I replied, calm and measured, “do you know what it means to underestimate someone?”

Arthur tilted his head slightly, a puzzled frown crossing his face. He didn’t get it. In his eyes, he was the lion, the apex predator on the savannah. I was the rabbit, the gazelle, something that should be running. That was the story playing in his head.

But he had it all wrong. If he was a lion, I was something else entirely. Something no lion in his right mind would want to face. If this were a monster movie, I’d be the kind of creature that made the villain monsters flee off-screen, a towering kaiju so terrifying even the final boss wouldn’t stick around for the end credits.

Then, clear and sharp, the instructor’s voice cut through the charged silence of the gym.

“Begin!”

What followed wasn’t dramatic. There was no flurry of blows, no clash of swords, no extended battle.

Just a soft thud.

Arthur collapsed on the spot, like a marionette whose strings had been severed. The entire fight had lasted maybe a second.

All I’d done was slip behind him the moment the signal was given and tap the side of his neck with the flat of my sword. A clean strike to the cervical nerves. Enough to rattle his brain and short-circuit his senses. One moment, he was standing, full of himself, chest puffed out, and the next, he was gone, sliding into unconsciousness before he even realized he’d lost.

Silence fell over the gym like a dropped curtain. Then came the murmurs. First a whisper, then a wave of stunned reactions swelling through the room. The tension snapped all at once.

Brian broke from the crowd, sprinting up to me with wild eyes and a half-panicked look on his face, his voice rising to something that sounded suspiciously like a scream.

Brian was pale now, staring at me as I’d just transformed into something unrecognizable. His voice quivered, caught somewhere between disbelief and calculation. “What… What was that? A D-rank adventurer…? No, that’s too much, even for a joke. But still, at our age, to be considered a proper adventurer, you’d need to be at least E-rank. Otherwise, what just happened to Arthur wouldn’t make any sense. It doesn’t add up.”

He took a step closer, his eyes narrowing in suspicion. “Are you saying you have the strength to match an E-rank adventurer?”

“E-rank, huh?” I scratched the back of my neck, honestly not sure how to respond. “Well… maybe? I guess?”

The truth was, I wasn’t exactly thinking in terms of official rankings. But judging by Brian’s face, that answer had done nothing to calm him. Meanwhile, off to the side, Lilith was clearly struggling to hold back her laughter, one hand clamped over her mouth.

She had reason to be amused. After all, she’d been admitted to the academy as a scholarship student, rated at the equivalent of a C+ rank adventurer. That status came from her absurd ability to spam mid-tier magic like it was nothing. Thank god she hadn’t shown them any of her high-tier spells or the secret techniques from the dragon clans. If she had, things would’ve gotten very complicated, very fast.

Then there was Cordelia. The word was that her evaluation had placed her at B-rank level. But from what I’d seen, especially when she was controlling her mana overflow, she was easily in the upper A-rank tier, maybe even higher. If she fought seriously now, she could probably solo that monstrous Evil Dragon Amanta without breaking a sweat.

Just as I was thinking that, the instructor stormed over to me, practically frothing at the mouth. “You… What the hell did you do?! What did you do to him?!”

I shrugged. “Just neutralized him without causing injury. That’s it.”

His voice cracked as he gestured wildly. “Arthur Markham is no pushover! He’s got the skills of a rookie adventurer! And you… You took him out without him even reacting! That kind of thing would require, at the very least, a D-rank adventurer’s level of skill!”

So that’s how he sees it. Interesting. Apparently, he’d interpreted my move as something on par with a D-rank melee fighter. Not that I disagreed.

“Like I said,” I repeated with a casual shrug, “I just made sure he didn’t get hurt while taking him out. Nothing more.”

The instructor stared at me for a moment, then asked the question that had clearly been building up inside him. “Just… who are you? How is someone like you in a place like this?!”

“Me?” I gave him a dry smile. “Got dropped into the bottom-tier class based on my entrance exam. I’m just a Villager, remember?”

I rolled my shoulders, relaxed as could be.

“Anyway, I’ll be out of here soon enough once I pass the next advancement exam. Until then…” I gave him a nod, half-grinning. “I’ll be counting on you to keep up the muscle training, Instructor.”

The next morning, I woke up with a heavy sense of dread clinging to my chest. Apparently, the spectacle I’d caused yesterday had left more of a mark than I’d intended.

Brian, for one, had gone right back to giving me the silent treatment. But it wasn’t the smug, mocking kind of silence he used before. No, this was different. The kind of silence born from unease, maybe even fear.

Arthur, on the other hand, had adopted this strange, stiff politeness. Every time our eyes met, he’d offer a small, wordless bow, like I was someone to be respected or carefully avoided. It was awkward, to say the least.

Now, picture this: Arthur, Brian, and me—same age, same dorm room. Living under the same roof during a high-intensity training period. Our room, supposedly the one place we could relax in during what little free time we had, had become an emotional landmine. Normally, this was where we’d joke around, share some cafeteria desserts, talk about girls we liked, just your average teenage bonding.

But not us. We didn’t talk at all.

When I finally sat up and glanced around, Arthur was already awake, perched on the edge of his bed. The moment I moved, he dipped his head again, formal and silent. Brian was awake too. He shot me a panicked glance, like he wasn’t sure how to react, then promptly dove under his blanket and buried himself like he hoped I’d disappear.

Yeah. Real warm and cozy atmosphere.

I let out a long sigh and stared up at the ceiling. So this is how it’s gonna be, huh?

Still, we all knew what time it was. By six, without a word exchanged between us, we stepped out onto the training field together for the morning run.

Normally, this part of the day was reserved for warmups followed by a ten-kilometer jog. But today, our ever-reliable instructor had something far more unpleasant in store.

“We’re changing the routine today,” he announced coldly.

Laid out on the ground in front of us were several heavy-duty mountain backpacks, clearly not empty. Nearby, a group of armed and armored adventurers stood waiting, making it clear they weren’t just there for decoration.

“The plan for today,” the instructor announced, his voice crisp and merciless, “is a one-hundred-kilometer trek through the Forest of Confusion. Everyone will be wearing the Shackles of Golgotha, and you’ll be relying solely on raw muscle power to carry yourselves through. Your mountaineering packs contain five kilos of water and fifteen kilos of sand.”

He paused, drew a slow breath, and added the real punchline. “Anyone who fails… will be expected to voluntarily withdraw from the Academy.”

I nodded to myself, not surprised in the least. The other day, the instructor had mentioned consulting higher-ups about Koharu’s abysmal performance in physical assessments—numbers so bad they were practically statistical anomalies. This must’ve been the result of that meeting. Rather than address her directly, they’d designed an impossible challenge tailored to single her out.

We were issued the gear without ceremony. The backpacks were stuffed to capacity and shoved into our arms one after the other. When I saw Koharu struggling to lift hers, I stepped closer.

“You holding up okay, Koharu?”

She gave a hollow little laugh, trying to steady herself under the weight. “Do I look okay to you?”

She was small, physically speaking, and the twenty-kilogram pack looked like it could fold her in half. Her center of gravity wobbled dangerously with every step. I frowned, the concern showing despite myself.

“I’ll be fine,” she said, more to herself than to me. “I just have to do it. There’s no other option.”

“Alright. Just go as far as you can on your own strength. Don’t push yourself past what’s possible.”

And with that, our hell march began.

As expected and, to be honest, inevitably, her pace started to falter barely two kilometers in. By the five-kilometer mark, Koharu collapsed to her knees, breathing ragged and face pale, the pack dragging her down like it was filled with lead.

“Student Koharu Saegusa,” the instructor said, stepping toward her with dispassion. “If you give up here, you’ll be choosing to withdraw. Are you prepared for that?”

Before she could answer, I stepped in.

“I’ll take responsibility for her,” I said. “The rest of the group can go ahead. I’ll assess the situation and let you know whether she needs to withdraw. Just give me ten minutes.”

The instructor gave a subtle nod and gestured to the adventurer escorts. Two of them approached silently, keeping a watchful eye. After all, we were in the Forest of Confusion, a place where monsters weren’t exactly rare. The guards were there for both supervision and protection.

I crouched beside Koharu, watching her shoulders tremble with exhaustion. “Koharu,” I said gently, “what’s going on? Are you really at your limit already?”

She sat hunched over on the forest floor, quietly pulling off one of her shoes. Her fingers prodded gently at the sole of her foot, and then she looked up at me with teary eyes, her voice trembling with a mix of pain and shame. “I… I got a blood blister,” she said, barely above a whisper.

Without a word, I stepped toward her and reached for the straps of her heavy backpack. “Give it here,” I said, already shifting the weight onto my own shoulders. “I’ll carry it.”

She blinked in surprise. “But… won’t that make it harder for you?”

I let out a low sigh. “You’re already a pain just by existing. Don’t make it worse. Just hand it over.”

She hesitated, lips parting as if to protest, but then a small, embarrassed smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. It wasn’t just relief in her expression but plain, unfiltered gratitude.

“Thank you, Ryuto-kun.”

“Let me see it,” I said, kneeling beside her. “The blister.”

Her brow knit in confusion. “Huh?”

“I can use basic healing magic. Nothing too fancy, but it should take care of something like this.”

Understanding dawned on her face, and she exhaled slowly, the tension in her shoulders easing just a little. But then, as I gently cast the spell, she looked down and murmured with heartbreaking sincerity, “I’ve always been a failure. Even as a kid. I’m really sorry for dragging you into this…”

There was no self-pity in her voice, just honest regret. And maybe that was what made it sting the most.

As I finished the spell, I looked her in the eye and decided it was time to ask the question that had been lingering in the back of my mind since the beginning of all this.

“Hey, Koharu,” I said, keeping my tone even. “Why are you in a class like this? Someone like you… You’re A-rank adventurer material. You’re on the same level as Cordelia, the Hero of the North. What the hell are you doing at the bottom?”

She froze. The words clearly hit harder than she expected.

A few seconds passed. Then she gave a strange little smile, tight and twitching at the corners. Her eyes drifted upward, toward the distant eastern sky, and something inside her seemed to give way. She didn’t answer immediately, but the look on her face said enough.

I tilted my head, watching her quietly. “The Saegusa Shrine Maidens,” I said at last. “Your clan from the East. You’ve been the keepers of rites since the age of the gods. Entering pacts with ancient deities, wielding powers passed down through generations. Am I wrong?”

Her voice was soft, almost distant. “It’s not something openly discussed, even in Yamato. But yes. That’s who we are. The Saegusa maidens possess a rare spiritual ability, a type of channeling. We can open gateways into the spirit world. Summon the dead. Call on divine echoes. It’s a bloodline skill that only manifests in our clan.”

She wasn’t boasting. In fact, she sounded more like someone confessing a burden. And just like that, the quiet girl who’d seemed so out of place among us suddenly made perfect, terrifying sense.

“Channeling,” I said, frowning slightly. “That’s the technique where you offer your own body as a vessel to summon the soul of someone who’s passed, right? Let them speak through you so their family can ask questions? Something like that?”

Saegusa nodded. “That’s exactly right. The main work at the Saegusa Shrine is helping with inheritance disputes. Sometimes we get called in to assist with murder investigations, like helping find the culprit by contacting the victim.”

It was all surprisingly down-to-earth. What sounded like sacred spiritual art had been reduced to practical, maybe even bureaucratic work. The skills of the Saegusa line weren’t treated as divine; they were used like tools.

Then she looked at me, puzzled. “But why do you think I’m anything like Cordelia? She’s the Hero of the North. A monster in human form. Our family just performs spiritual rites. We’re mediums. That’s all.”

“Your relatives might be,” I said, my tone quiet but firm. “But you’re not.”

Her expression shifted, cautious now.

“Your village is buried deep in the mountains, protected by checkpoints and strict isolation. It’s a designated sealed region. That doesn’t happen for ordinary mediums. So, why the seclusion?”

She didn’t answer, but her silence said plenty.

“You enrolled here as a simple channeler,” I continued, watching her carefully. “But that was only part of it, wasn’t it? You’re something much rarer.”

Still no response, just the tightening of her shoulders.

“You’re a Divine Vessel Priestess,” I said at last. “You don’t just call forth the dead. You open channels to the higher spiritual realms, including the divine. And when it’s needed, you become a vessel. The god descends into your body. You fight as its avatar. That’s your true strength.”

Her eyes widened. She stared at me as if I’d just spoken her deepest secret aloud.

“If all I could do was basic channeling,” she whispered, “I could understand you knowing. But this… How could anyone out here, in the far west, know what a Divine Vessel Priestess is, let alone that I’m one?”

I gave her a faint shrug. “There’s a book in the Dragon King’s Library, Compendium of Rare Bloodlines. I was digging for ways to get stronger and happened across your name. Ranked near the top.”

I let that hang a moment, then added, “If we go by adventurer guild classifications, once you invoke divine descent, you’d be rated around A-rank. Easily.”

What she possessed wasn’t just powerful; it was a weapon of national significance. A Divine Vessel Priestess wasn’t some quaint spiritualist. She was a tactical asset, the kind of force that could single-handedly turn the tide of a localized war. Her existence, in terms of sheer military potential, was a balancing act, barely containable even with state-level oversight.

In other words, she was a monster. And that was putting it gently.

“It’s a bloodline trait,” I said, glancing at her. “Passed down through generations. In your family, only one person can inherit the divine descent ability. The direct daughter of the main line. Probably because if every member of your clan could summon a god into their body, world domination would stop being a fantasy and start looking like a scheduling issue.”

She tilted her head, a puzzled look flickering across her face. “But how did you know I was the eldest daughter of the main line?”

I laughed and gave her a light pat on the shoulder. “We’re surrounded by baby chicks, rookies who barely count as adventurers. But then there’s you. A kaiju in disguise. It’s hard not to notice.”

She fell silent, staring at me. Then her brows furrowed, not in confusion this time, but in mild frustration. “You know, I’m not stupid. I can tell you’ve got power. Ridiculous power.”

I said nothing. Just let her keep going.

“But I can’t see the bottom of it. I can’t even glimpse the shape of what you’re really capable of. I’ve never met anyone like that before. If I’m a kaiju…” She looked me square in the eyes. “Then what are you, Ryuto-kun?”

I smirked. “I’m just a Villager.”

She stared for a beat and then burst into laughter. “What kind of world has Villagers like you?”

This one, I thought, but didn’t say it out loud. Instead, I let it slide.

“Anyway,” I said, shifting the conversation, “back to the real question. Why are you here? What’s someone like you doing in the bottom class of a magic academy?”

Koharu placed a thoughtful hand on her chin, straightening up as she pulled her expression taut with mock seriousness. “If I had to summarize it clearly,” she said, tone suddenly theatrical.

“Yeah?”

“The reason I, the first daughter of the Saegusa line, ended up in the absolute bottom class of this magic academy is actually pretty simple.”

“Simple, huh?”

“In truth, I’m barely even a contender right now,” she said quietly, her tone steady but stripped of any pride. “I really am as weak as I seem. So, being placed in the bottom class? It’s not a mistake. It’s exactly where I belong.”

I frowned, not quite grasping her meaning. But before I could ask, she continued, her gaze distant.

“At present, as far as I know… only a few members of the Saegusa clan are still alive.”

That stopped me short. I tilted my head. “Wait, didn’t your entire clan live in that village? The one built around the shrine? Wasn’t everyone there part of your family or tied to it?”

She nodded. “Yes. And that village… is gone. Destroyed.”

The weight of her words hit hard. “Destroyed how?”

She paused, as if choosing her words carefully, then spoke with the quiet gravity of someone who had lived too long with truth no one else saw. “Do you know why the Saegusa clan lived in seclusion, deep in the mountains?”

“The eastern disaster entity,” I said slowly. “The Serpent of Eightfold Calamities.”

She blinked, visibly startled, then let out a small, breathless laugh. “You really do know everything, don’t you?”

But there was no real humor behind it. Her smile was touched by sorrow, her usual bright demeanor dulled by grief. In that moment, she seemed older; graceful, yes, but weighed down. Not the clumsy girl I knew, but a woman shaped by loss.

I looked away, quietly exhaling. “No… I don’t know everything.”

I almost added “just the parts that matter,” but I figured the reference wouldn’t land. Now wasn’t the time.

The fact that her village had been annihilated? That was nothing to joke about.

“So?” I asked, prompting her gently.

She looked up, her voice steady. “The Serpent of Eightfold Calamities, an ancient, eight-headed serpent, once devoured entire villages across the east. Eventually, it was sealed near our home. That’s why we were there. The gods themselves appointed our ancestors to guard it. In return, the imperial family protected our clan. For generations, we upheld the seal. We watched. We waited.”

Her voice fell to a near whisper.

“But then the seal failed. The serpent rose. We fought… and we fell. The village was destroyed. Only a few of us survived.”

Koharu shook her head slowly, side to side, her expression unreadable.

“The seal on the Serpent of Eightfold Calamities had indeed weakened,” she said. “And yes, its resurrection was believed to be imminent. But in the end, it never came back.”

That made me blink. “What?”

“In fact,” she continued, her voice hushed, “the final scheduled inspection reported something strange. Instead of accelerating, the timeline for its revival had been pushed back. By several centuries. Something that should’ve been impossible.”

I stared at her, frowning. “Then what destroyed your village?”

Her shoulders sank as she answered. “A horde of demons. Here, I think you’d call them ogres. They overran us.”

“Ogres?” I echoed. “Your village was filled with people assigned to guard a sealed calamity. How the hell did it fall to ogres?”

To be fair, ogres weren’t exactly weak. They traveled in packs, and a rookie adventurer who spotted even one would be smart to turn and run. Still, they weren’t so dangerous that they could overwhelm national defense. Veteran adventurers in well-equipped parties could usually manage them without issue.

In fact, out on the frontier, local knights often made a side business of exterminating ogre nests. They were more nuisance than nightmare, an excuse for land taxes and recruitment drives. If anything, ogre outbreaks were a bonus for rural lords looking to score political points.

Apparently following my train of thought, she nodded solemnly.

“They weren’t normal ogres,” she said. “They had a commander. an evolved type we call an Ogre General.”

I nodded slowly. That tracked. Ogre Generals were on par with C-rank monsters, formidable enough to require veteran adventurers, ideally working in groups. Even then, taking one down cleanly wasn’t guaranteed. Around here, maybe someone like our instructor could handle one alone, but even that wasn’t guaranteed.

Still, I gave her a skeptical look. “Even so… You’re an A-rank level fighter. That shouldn’t have been enough to wipe out your entire clan. Something doesn’t add up.”

She was silent for a long moment. Then she drew a slow, deep breath, as if bracing herself.

“The horde that attacked us,” she said softly, “numbered over fifty, but none of them were ogres.”

I stared at her, genuinely unable to process what I’d just heard. It didn’t make sense. Frustration prickled under my skin as I turned to her again.

“A horde of ogres attacked you, but there weren’t any ogres? What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Koharu pressed a hand to her temple, her fingers trembling slightly. The color drained from her face, her body stiffening as if a memory had just clawed its way to the surface.

“It wasn’t ogres,” she said quietly. “Not exactly. It was a horde of Ogre Generals. Or rather, I think there may have even been an Ogre King among them.”

I went still. “An Ogre King leading an army of Ogre Generals?”

That was beyond bad. It was catastrophic.

By adventurer standards, an Ogre King rated somewhere between B+ and low A-rank. A single one could decimate an entire provincial garrison. If a frontier lord tried to mount a counterattack, he’d likely end up slaughtered with his entire force. Normal military operations couldn’t handle that kind of threat. They weren’t designed for it. A monster of that class demanded national response, emergency reinforcement from the main kingdom, or a contract issued through the Adventurer’s Guild to mobilize elite parties.

And suddenly, a chill ran down my spine.

It reminded me of something. A dark, whispered memory from the edge of recorded history, the time when Goblin Emperors emerged, commanding armies of Goblin Kings. One evolutionary leap had turned an entire species into a global threat. A lone Goblin King mutated into an Emperor… then gave rise to the Ultimate Goblin. The phenomenon had shattered the balance of power across nations.

That same word echoed in my mind now. The Great Calamity.

“No way…” I muttered. “Could this be another Great Calamity? But if something like that happened in the east, we’d have heard about it…”

“I don’t know,” she replied, her voice barely audible. “All I know is that the men who were supposed to protect us, the warriors of the village, trained to hold the line against disasters, were wiped out in moments. Swallowed whole by the tide of Ogre Generals.”

It made a brutal kind of sense. Outside of divine possession, a Divine Vessel Priestess was vulnerable, completely dependent on her guardians. And descending a god into the body wasn’t instantaneous. It took time. Ritual. Preparation. That meant someone had to stall the enemy. Someone had to buy the seconds, or minutes, necessary for the god to awaken.

Those men were supposed to be that shield. The line. The ones capable of holding back calamity-level threats long enough for the real power to arrive.

And they’d been erased without leaving a scratch.

The men who had defended Saegusa’s village weren’t ordinary fighters. They would’ve been seasoned veterans, battle-hardened from a lifetime of guarding the seal. There was no way just any monster attack would’ve wiped them out.

“If it was only a pack of Ogre Generals, you could’ve handled it yourself, couldn’t you?” I said, watching her carefully. “Hell, even with an Ogre King thrown in… I don’t see how that would’ve been enough to destroy everything. You would’ve found a way.”

She didn’t respond at first, just stared at the ground in silence.

“And why did you say there might have been an Ogre King?” I pressed. “You were there. On the front lines, weren’t you?”

At that, she gave me a small, sad smile—quiet and tired, with something distant behind it. Then she shrugged gently.

“I understand,” she said softly. “No use in arguing theory when you can just see it with your own eyes, right?”

Before I could respond, she reached for her robe and began loosening it at the collar.

“Wait… What are you—”

But the words caught in my throat.

She opened the front of her uniform just enough to bare her chest, not in some teasing way, but matter-of-factly, as if it were nothing more than rolling up a sleeve. Her pale skin shimmered faintly in the morning light, and her breasts, impossibly full and soft, shifted with the motion in a way that made me instinctively avert my gaze, blood rushing to my ears.

And all I could manage, voice cracking in sheer awkwardness, was—

“Hey! Koharu!” I stammered, nearly choking on my words as she loosened her sash and pulled open her collar. “What the hell are you doing!? Why are you… Wait, hold on a second!”

But she didn’t stop. With a calmness that only made the situation more surreal, she let her white outer robe slip completely off her shoulders, baring her upper body. For a moment, I thought I was witnessing something I absolutely should not be seeing, until I realized she was still wearing a tightly wrapped cloth beneath. There was no actual exposure, but it still had me flailing to avert my eyes, heart hammering in my chest.

“Seriously, what the hell, Koharu?!”

She didn’t respond to the flustered panic in my voice. Instead, she turned slightly, revealing her left shoulder. That was when I noticed the thick bandage wound around it.

“If you look at this,” she said softly, “I think you’ll understand. Why I’m here. Why I’ve become nothing more than a burden.”

She began unwrapping the cloth slowly, methodically. And when the final layer fell away, I understood.

I went silent.

A mark had been scorched into her skin, just below the curve of her shoulder, a bruised violet sigil, roughly the size of a fist. It pulsed faintly, as if it were still alive. Still active.

“I see,” I said at last. “That explains everything.”

The pieces clicked into place. The delay in the Serpent of Eightfold Calamities’ revival. The fall of her village. The abnormal strength of the attacking ogres. The quiet war already brewing beneath the surface while the rest of the world bickered over petty politics and pointless class placements.

All while Cordelia was already overburdened with her own battles.

This wasn’t the time for infighting. And yet, here we were, still acting like idiots.

I sighed deeply.

The sigil burned into Koharu’s shoulder wasn’t just a scar. It was a curse. A highly specific, extremely targeted curse.

“You showed me that as proof,” I said, voice low. “So I’m guessing you already know exactly what it is.”

She nodded, her expression heavy. “For the heir of the Saegusa line… it’s the worst kind of debilitation.”

“Yeah,” I murmured. “That mark disables all forms of physical enhancement: spells, skills, even enchanted gear. It nullifies everything.”

“Yes,” she said quietly.

Another sigh escaped me, sharper this time. “Koharu?”

“What is it?” she asked, looking up.

“I’m guessing the curse isn’t just on your shoulder,” I said slowly. “You’ve probably got symptoms elsewhere, like your skin, fingertips, maybe your legs or arms. Somewhere on the surface.”

Koharu froze, her eyes widening in shock. She went completely still, breath catching.

Yeah. I figured as much. That kind of detail wasn’t something an outsider could just guess. And yet, I knew. Thanks to the Dragon King’s Library, that walking cheat code disguised as a collection of ancient texts, I’d pieced it together.

“How… How do you know that?” she asked, her voice barely audible.

I gave her a dry smile. “Good question. Let’s just say I read a lot. Now… show me.”

Reluctantly, she reached for the cloth still wrapped around her lower torso. She unwound it slowly, revealing her stomach and the mess beneath.

I winced. “Damn. That’s bad.”

“The skin’s peeling,” she said, keeping her voice neutral. “And it’s partially infected.”

There it was, plain to see: the true weight of her condition. The curse hadn’t just sealed away her strength; it had tainted her body so deeply she could no longer serve as a Divine Vessel Priestess. Her soul was impure, her vessel corrupted. No god could descend into a shrine that had been defiled.

And curses of this caliber didn’t happen overnight. They took time, years, sometimes decades, to prepare. Hair stolen during childhood, sacred objects tampered with, or tainted food laced with spiritual poison. In some cases, the victim’s sleeping quarters would be surrounded and sealed with intricate magic, rendering them vulnerable over long periods. It was the slowest kind of kill: a calculated, spiritual suffocation.

Based on the signs, I was willing to bet she had been subjected to all those methods at once.

Which meant whoever had done this hadn’t just been powerful; they’d been methodical. Patient. And very, very thorough.

Her clan had clearly been exceptional as calamity wardens. But when it came to dealing with people? They’d been far too trusting.

“So,” I said, voice low, “who did this to you?”

She looked down. “I don’t know.”

I tilted my head back and stared up at the sky in silent exasperation. Of course, she doesn’t. She really is an idiot sometimes, isn’t she?

If she’d taken even five minutes to think it through, she could’ve figured it out. The Saegusa clan wasn’t political. They didn’t tax, didn’t interfere, and didn’t even fight unless it was against the seal-bearers of calamity. They were the most inoffensive force in all the Eastern lands. No personal ambitions, no strategic land, no control over resources.

So if someone went out of their way to sabotage them? It wasn’t about money. It wasn’t about territory.

It was about power. Their power.

Someone, somewhere, had looked at the Saegusa clan and decided their strength was too dangerous to be allowed to exist.

The Hero of the East, by tradition, was always born into the ancestral line of the Onmyōdō founders, a legacy of balance and shadow. And that bloodline had always stood in quiet opposition to the Saegusa shrine, the highest seat of divine Shinto authority. In other words, if anyone had reason to resent Saegusa’s power, it was them.

And from what I could see, the curse that defiled her wasn’t some random hex. Its oily, clinging structure was unmistakably that of an Onmyōdō working: layered, meticulous, and insidious.

There was only one suspect. No need to look further.

As if to confirm the thought, Saegusa’s expression grew solemn. Her voice was soft as she said, “The god I serve is enshrined at a solar shrine. The Sun God.”

“I know,” I murmured.

“My role is that of a battle priestess. In times of war, I’m meant to protect the village.”

“I know.”

“When the Ogre Generals surrounded our home… all the men went out to fight. They gave their lives to hold the line. And I… I stepped forward to face my first battle as the shrine’s chosen warrior.”

I stayed silent, watching her face carefully.

“They believed in me,” she whispered. “They believed that if they just bought me a little time… if I could just receive the descent… then the god would save us.”

I glanced at her shoulder, the place where her curse still festered, glowing faintly beneath her skin. The place where the divine had refused to come.

“And when the moment came…” Her voice cracked. “The god never descended.”

Of course, it hadn’t. She was trying to invoke holy power while her body was wrapped in a deep, malignant curse, an infection that shut down divine magic at the root. It had been hopeless from the start.

She lowered her lashes. Her expression twisted into something like a smile, but there was madness at the edges. “Hey, Ryuto-kun… Do you get it? I couldn’t do anything. Nothing. While my village was being overrun, while the ogres trampled our homes and our fields, stole our food, our gold, dragged our women away…”

Her voice trembled. “I just stood there. Powerless. The little ones called me ‘Miko-neesama.’ Kids my own age called me Lady Koharu. The elders called me their battle priestess, their protector. Everyone treated me with such warmth, such trust… and in the end, I couldn’t do a damn thing.”

She bit her lip, hard enough that blood welled up between her teeth.

“When they realized I couldn’t call down the god, I saw it. On their faces. Rage. Grief. Terror. And… acceptance. All of it. They looked at me with everything they had left, and they smiled. They still smiled.”

Her voice broke entirely.

And then the tears came. Silent, unrelenting. They slid down her cheeks as if pulled by the full weight of the lives that had once depended on her, and the guilt that had crushed her in their absence.

“And then?” I prompted quietly.

Her voice trembled, but she continued. “They smiled. Sad, but still gentle. That was the last thing they gave me… before they locked me away in the shrine’s underground chamber. And after that…” Her voice caught. “The Ogre Generals and the Ogre King overwhelmed the village. And everything was lost.”

I nodded slowly. “Alright. That explains most of it. But what I don’t get is… How did you end up all the way out here? The farthest corner of the west?”

“After the village fell,” she said, eyes distant, “I was summoned to the capital. They enrolled me in the Academy of the Shadow Path.”

Of course they did. If they couldn’t use her as a vessel for divine descent, they’d try to repurpose her. Mold her into something else.

“They figured that even if I couldn’t summon the god anymore, I was still a Saegusa,” she said. “So I had to be magically compatible with something.”

That was pure madness.

Saegusa wasn’t like ordinary spellcasters. Her mind, her body, her entire being had been built from birth to host divinity. Her internal circuits, her spiritual pathways, everything had been shaped for one purpose: to channel gods. Trying to overlay conventional magic onto that kind of system was like trying to load a ballista bolt into a crossbow. It didn’t just fail; it broke things.

Clearly, the so-called Hero of the East, the current heir of the Shadow Path, was every bit the bastard I suspected.

“What happened then?” I asked, though I already knew.

She smiled bitterly. “Do I look like someone who can cast standard magic?”

No. Not even close.

“I couldn’t do anything. I made a fool of myself over and over… and they made sure everyone saw it.”

I frowned. “What do you mean? They made you a spectacle?”

“The first daughter of the legendary Saegusa line, said to carry thousands of years of divine blood, couldn’t even cast a basic spell,” she whispered. “And they made sure that fact was on display for the whole academy.”

Right. Because why waste a good chance to humiliate a political rival?

The truth was, Koharu had always belonged to a unique skill class. She wasn’t built for conventional combat but for a singular, divine role. Judging her with the same rubric as an everyday mage was absurd. But that was the point, wasn’t it? They’d set her up to fail. To remove her from the board.

Because someone with a lot of power and a fragile ego needed to be the uncontested strongest in the east. And she’d been in the way.

“So,” I asked at last, “how did you end up here?”

At that, she smiled faintly. A fragile, hollow kind of smile that barely reached her eyes.

“My lost power, the strength of the Saegusa bloodline, was never mine alone,” Koharu said, her voice steadying with conviction. She clenched her fists, her knuckles paling. “That overwhelming force was not something I earned. It was the legacy of ancient covenants sealed by my ancestors with the gods. I’m merely the vessel chosen to bear it, not to own it.”

She inhaled, then continued with renewed intensity. “I just happened to be born the eldest daughter. That’s all. This power wasn’t gifted to me; it was entrusted to me on behalf of everyone in my clan. I’m just the one who inherited it.”

“And?” I asked quietly.

“They all died to protect that power, you know? To protect me. Because they understood what I carried, that I wasn’t just myself but the future of our bloodline.”

I nodded slowly. “That… might be true.”

Her gaze dropped. “But now? In the Eastern Kingdom, the name Saegusa has become synonymous with failure.”

I leaned forward, my patience wearing thin. “I got it. Now answer the damn question. Why are you all the way out here, at a western magic academy?”

“Because the spells are different here,” she said simply. “If eastern magic failed me, maybe western magic won’t. The Saegusa clan were sacred defenders, the chosen battle priestesses charged with sealing calamities. Even if I can’t descend a god anymore, if I train hard enough, I can reclaim that legacy. I can prove them wrong.”

I let out a long breath. She really was just a fool. Noble, but still a fool. “You seriously don’t get it, do you? What you’re trying to do is beyond reckless. Your body was made to host a god. You’re already overloaded with a divine channel. Trying to stack common magical circuits on top of that? That’s not ambition; it’s insanity.”

Her face tensed, but she kept her resolve. “Then tell me. If a curse just locks away all this power, why hasn’t anyone removed it?”

“If you could have, you already would’ve. I’m guessing you’ve seen every healer, exorcist, and expert out there.”

She nodded faintly, her voice quiet. “Yes. No one could help. Every single one of them said the same thing. The curse can’t be undone.”

She hadn’t come to the Western Frontier for herself. She’d crossed the entire continent, east to west, for the sole purpose of reclaiming her clan’s honor. Honestly, I had to respect the sheer grit it took. And truth be told, I wasn’t in a position to mock anyone scraping by on desperation. I’d crawled through plenty of filth to get where I was.

“Guess I’ve got no choice.”

I studied the curse clinging to her shoulder. If I had to rate it, this thing was a solid seven out of ten on the dark arts scale. A real piece of work. Whoever cast it had gone all-in: layered rituals, long-term corruption, maybe even ritual offerings. No wonder every healer and spiritualist she’d seen had thrown in the towel.

No ordinary magic was going to touch this thing. And since my cultivation arts required Lilith to channel them and she wasn’t exactly here or compatible with the current state of Saegusa’s spirit, I had one option left.

“Guess I’ll just have to eat it.”

I flexed my right hand, extending it slowly toward her shoulder.

“Huh? Ryuto-kun?” Her voice wavered.

“Shut up and stay still.”

With my focus honed, I unlocked the seal inside my palm, deep in its center, and the sleeping monster stirred. The moment it awoke, a foul black miasma erupted from her shoulder, curling through the air before being sucked directly into my hand.

She flinched, staring. “Is that… an eye? On your hand? Ryuto-kun, what did you just do?!”

“I broke the curse that was binding the Divine Vessel Priestess,” I said flatly.

She blinked, then slowly glanced down at her shoulder. The wound remained, but the malevolent energy, that suffocating curse, was completely gone.

Mouth parted, she took a breath, then asked, “But… how?”

“I ate it.”

She froze. “You… ate it?” Her voice cracked, then pitched up into near panic. “Wait, what?! That curse… It stumped every expert in the Eastern Kingdom! I went to healers, shamans, shrine elders, and you’re telling me you just… ate it?!”

I scratched my cheek awkwardly.

Yeah. That’s exactly what I’m telling you.

“Well, trying to explain it would just make things even more complicated…”

Beelzebub devoured magic.

And because I had formed a contract with him, his powers flowed through me by default. That meant most mages’ attacks were utterly meaningless against me. Their spells fizzled out before they even had a chance.

Lilith had long since resigned herself to calling it a cheat.

Not that I could blame her. She was a mage herself, after all. This kind of ability, something that rendered magic outright obsolete, must have rubbed her the wrong way on a fundamental level.

And now I was dealing with Koharu, a girl who knew just enough about divine possession to be dangerous.

But the truth? I wasn’t about to explain it to her. Not the real version. That I’d tamed Beelzebub himself, a high-ranking godlike entity, one of the Seven Deadly Sins. That kind of revelation would blow her mind clean off. This wasn’t some friendly pact with a helpful spirit. I was harboring a demon lord in my body.

That wasn’t the kind of thing you just told someone. That kind of bombshell was for the likes of the Host Samurai, the Dragon Throne guy who’d laugh off a revelation like that with a shake of the head and a glass of whiskey.

Hell, even I had nearly died when we first subdued him two months ago.

Lilith had to be stationed a full kilometer away, her barrier spells at maximum output, just to keep herself safe. Even then, she’d barely managed to hang on.

To be fair, without her triggering the transcendent battle arts that surpassed even traditional martial magic, there was no way I could’ve won. And those techniques? Only activated through her support. That was why she had to stay just within reach, far enough to survive the shockwaves, close enough to keep the link stable.

Which led to the inevitable.

Lilith had watched the entire fight unfold from afar—if you could call a kilometer “afar” in that kind of battle—and afterward, she let me have it. Full force.

“Do you even realize how ridiculous this is?” she’d said, her voice trembling with fury. “I’m just a human. At best, I’m operating at an A- or S-rank adventurer level. And you’re having your world-ending clash of divine monsters within a single goddamn kilometer of me. You think I can survive the fallout of that even with my best barriers?! Are you insane?!”

Then came the punch. A clean right hook that nearly dislocated my jaw.

“Were you trying to kill me, you absolute moron?!”

It was the first time I’d ever seen Lilith genuinely lose it. Also, the first time she’d ever spoken to me with no filters, no polite phrasing, just raw fury spat straight in my face. That alone had shocked me more than the punch.

Back in the present, Koharu just shrugged, wearing a vague, unreadable expression that said, “I don’t even want to know.”

“Lurking around, dodging questions… Honestly, Ryuto-kun, you’re impossible sometimes.”

“And now you’ve regained your true power, right?” I turned to Koharu, giving her a pointed look.

She stiffened, expression flickering as if unsure how to respond. “I… I honestly don’t know. Maybe? It sort of feels like it, but…”

“Then let me make a suggestion,” I cut in.

“A suggestion?” she echoed warily.

“Your village, it was wiped out by oni, wasn’t it? Ogres?”

She nodded solemnly. “Yes. Mostly Ogre Generals. And possibly their leader. The Ogre King.”

I raised my right hand and pointed due north.

“There’s a cluster of Ogre Generals that way. Dozens of them, by the look of it. And they’re likely just the scouts.”

Even a single Ogre General was classified as a high-threat entity. Seeing so many operating as scouts meant one thing: the main force was massive. It was almost a given that an Ogre King was commanding them.

Just like what happened in the East.

I sorted through the patterns in my head, connecting the threads until the conclusion became clear.

These weren’t isolated incidents. Someone was orchestrating this, pulling the strings in both the east and west. In the east, their target had been Saegusa. Here in the west, it was probably Cordelia.

I sighed, the weight of inevitability settling on my shoulders.

So much for just playing around with students.

I gave Koharu’s arm a tug and led her forward. After a few paces, the trees parted, and there they were. Ogre Generals. Towering brutes, already visible through the underbrush.

Then a sharp, echoing voice rang out across the forest, cracking through the air like a gunshot.

“Run! Get out of here! Those are Ogre Generals! I can’t handle them on my own!”

Right. I’d completely forgotten.

There was supposed to be a veteran adventurer posted nearby, assigned by the academy as our escort. D-rank or maybe E-rank. Someone meant to keep watch from a distance.

In reality? A complete liability. More of a danger to us than to the enemy.

Just one more thing I didn’t need right now.

“I’m sensing about thirty of them in total,” I said, casually brushing off the tension. “You handle five, and I’ll step in after that. Not bad for rehab, right?”

Koharu let out a quiet chuckle, the sound light and dry.

The truth was, if she ever decided to get serious, Koharu could easily hold her own against an A-rank adventurer. Her technique, her presence, it all pointed to that level of skill. The Ogre Generals? They were C-rank at best. One-on-one, they wouldn’t even be a warm-up for her.

“Ryuto-kun?” Her voice trembled slightly. “Am I really… connected to the gods right now?”

“Probably.” I shrugged. But honestly, she already knew the answer. How could she not? The curse that had bound her all this time had shattered in an instant, like brittle glass. She must have felt it and known the moment it happened.

It was the kind of release that defied belief. Like waking up to find every trace of illness gone, not just faded but obliterated. No pain, no weight, no resistance. As if some powerful narcotic had surged through her veins, scrubbing away every last discomfort in a single, impossible wave. That kind of clarity would leave anyone breathless.

“I understand,” she whispered.

And just then, a faint smile spread across her face, soft and bright, filled with a quiet joy that needed no words.

Before I could speak, another voice rang out from the forest, shrill and panicked.

“Heey! I told you! I told you to run! Why the hell are you still standing there after spotting an Ogre General?! I can’t save suicidal idiots!”

The adventurer didn’t wait for a reply. He turned and fled as his life depended on it. Honestly, it probably did.

Koharu stepped forward.

Then, slowly, deliberately, she began to chant.

“By the covenant of old…”

It wasn’t a spell so much as a song. Her voice floated into the night like silk on water, and as she sang, her fingers moved in smooth arcs, sketching glowing runes in the air. The motion was elegant, eerily reminiscent of classical Japanese dance. Had this been a moonlit festival instead of a battlefield, the sight might’ve been mesmerizing.

“I beseech, and I offer…”

Her voice rose, threadlike and clear, each phrase spun like the note of a lullaby meant for gods.

“Wow.”

The word slipped from me before I realized it.

The atmosphere around her shifted, growing quiet and crystalline. The air itself became cool, reverent, and tinged with danger.

Her presence had taken on a holy edge, clean and still, yet edged like glass. You couldn’t touch something like that with dirty hands. Hell, even I felt it: a sharp, sacred cold that warned you to keep your distance.

Something divine had awakened in her.

An Ogre General broke into a jog, barreling straight toward Koharu with lumbering steps that shook the earth. From its perspective, she must’ve looked like the perfect prize: lithe, beautiful, vulnerable. A rare catch, and one it clearly intended to drag back to its nest. There, it would no doubt use her as nothing more than a breeding vessel. A living receptacle for its foul bloodline.

The distance between them shrank rapidly. Ten meters. Nine.

Then, without warning, Koharu shook her head slowly from side to side.

“No,” she whispered. “I can’t…”

The words had barely left her lips before the sacred energy gathered around her, so serene and regal, broke apart and vanished like morning mist.

“What’s going on?” I called out, already fearing the answer.

“My legs… They’re shaking. I can’t… stabilize the formation. The ritual is slipping…”

Her voice trembled. All the color had drained from her face, leaving her ghost-pale. Her body seemed frozen, fragile.

And then it hit me. Of course. Her village was wiped out by Ogre Generals. This wasn’t just a monster. This was the monster. The memory made flesh. And magic wasn’t just power; it was precision. It relied on a calm, focused mind to shape the circuits of thought that bent reality. But with her trauma ripping through every fiber of her brain, there was no chance she could hold a spell together.

She hadn’t cast in years. And this? This was too much, too soon.

In a blur of movement, the Ogre General reached her. It scooped her up like a doll, tucking her under one massive arm without slowing. Then it turned and started moving, back into the woods, heading toward whatever pit it called home.

As it moved, I caught a glimpse beneath its crude armor. Its groin was visibly swollen, blood pooling with vile intent. Every motion it made screamed purpose. Lust. Predation.

Letting it take her? Letting that happen? Absolutely not.

“Guess I don’t have a choice,” I muttered.

I raised a hand and flicked my wrist.

A soundless shockwave erupted from behind the Ogre General. It slammed into the creature’s spine with crushing force, blasting it forward like a broken toy. Koharu slipped from its grip midair, tumbling free as the beast soared through the air, ten meters at least, before crashing into the underbrush with all the grace of a sack of wet laundry.

She hit the ground hard, coughing, dazed, but conscious. Her head whipped toward me, eyes wide with disbelief.

“What did you do?”

“Remote Strike,” I said, brushing my fingers off like I’d flicked away lint.

“You remotely struck that thing? That was an Ogre General! A high-risk monster! You dropped it in one hit with distance magic?!”

I gave a halfhearted shrug. “Yeah, well… it was being a pain.”

I sighed, the breath slipping from my lips in a mix of resignation and irritation. “What a pain…”

Koharu blinked, confused. “A pain? What do you mean?”

Turning to her, I spoke calmly, but with purpose. “Using my detection skill, I’ve got a full read on the area. Within a fifty-meter radius, there are thirty-one Ogre Generals.”

She froze. “Thirty-one? That’s enough to warrant a full-scale military response. The kind of threat that calls for a national task force…”

“Exactly. It’s a bit excessive,” I admitted, rolling my shoulders. “Alright. Time to clean up. Hey, Koharu, do me a favor and lower your head for a second.”

“Huh? Why?”

“Just do it.”

Without waiting for further questions, I pivoted and launched a roundhouse kick.

It wasn’t aimed at anything in particular. The move itself was a trigger, a sweeping strike that activated a technique far beyond simple martial arts. The arc of the kick traced a perfect circle at chest height, and from it, an invisible shockwave exploded outward, slicing through the air like a blade of vacuum.

Shup. Shup. Shup. Shup.

The sound echoed as the wave tore through everything in a fifty-meter sphere. The Ogre Generals didn’t even have time to scream. In an instant, they were reduced to nothing, wiped out and lost in the aftermath.

Then the trees began to fall.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

One after another, massive trunks toppled, the entire forest around us collapsing like dominoes. What had been dense, overgrown woodland moments before now resembled a logging site, just stumps and fallen trees scattered across raw, broken earth.

Koharu didn’t move. She just stood there, staring at the destruction with wide, shell-shocked eyes.

“What did you do?” she asked, her voice soft, almost disbelieving.

“Whirlwind Kick,” I replied casually. “It’s a modified form of Remote Strike.”

She shook her head slowly. “That’s insane…”

“Insane?” I tilted my head. “How so?”

“I’m supposed to be A-rank. And even at that level, there’s no way I could take down a whole group of Ogre Generals with a single move. That wasn’t a technique. That was a natural disaster.”

I stayed silent.

She crossed her arms, voice firm now. “Ryuto-kun, you’re holding S-rank power, aren’t you? That level of force is strategic class. The kind of threat that can change the outcome of a war singlehandedly.”

I shrugged. “Maybe. Who knows?”

She narrowed her eyes, clearly not buying the act. “You really are impossible. Always dodging, always playing it off like it’s nothing.”

Apparently, even within her clan, they didn’t know that the world ranked power beyond S. And I had no intention of correcting that misconception. It wasn’t like I was the only monster-level fighter out there. There were others. Plenty, actually. Dragon Kings, ancient hermit sages, immortal little girls who looked ten but wielded forbidden arts like gods. This world had no shortage of absurdly powerful weirdos, and I was just one among them.

“By the way, Koharu,” I said, adjusting the strap of my pack. “You’re trying to redeem your clan’s name, right?”

Her answer came quietly. “Yes. That’s true.”

I hoisted my backpack off the ground and slung it over my shoulder. Then, with a subtle nod, I gestured for her to pick up hers as well.

“In that case, you’ll need to pass this place with flying colors. No exceptions.”

“Understood.”

“This isn’t the time to be saying things like ‘I’m scared’ or ‘I have trauma.’ This isn’t the time to be hiding your true abilities, either. You’re A-rank. So why the hell are you pretending to be some underperforming dropout?”

She didn’t respond.

I gave her a sharper look. “I’m just gonna ask outright. Why are you pretending to be completely useless when it comes to physical training?”

For a moment, Koharu said nothing. Then she looked down, her voice soft.

“Ryuto-kun, you really don’t know?”

“Know what?”

She hesitated, then finally answered. “Shrine maidens, when we’re not channeling a god, we’re completely powerless.”

I frowned. “That can’t be entirely true. You come from a warrior bloodline, don’t you?”

She shook her head slowly. “No. War priestesses don’t get their hands dirty. Ever. The gods we summon are noble and pure, so we’re raised the same way—shielded, coddled, practically kept in glass cases. We’re trained for ritual, not combat. No physical conditioning, no survival training. When we’re not possessed by a deity, our strength… It’s not just average. It’s below that.”

That earned a long silence from me.

I narrowed my eyes. “Wait, let me get this straight. The hundred-kilometer walk we started earlier? That was just the beginning of the course. So you’re telling me…”

“I was at my limit two kilometers in,” she admitted, her tone completely flat. “That was… my full power. I can’t walk anymore.”

I stared at her, ran a hand through my hair, and groaned aloud.

Great. Now what?

“For now, let’s just go as far as we can,” I said, keeping my pace steady. “I’m wearing the Shackles of Golgotha as part of my own training, too. Not that it really matters. Lilith and I can remove them whenever we want without anyone noticing.”

At that, Koharu froze mid-step, her eyes narrowing.

“Wait, hold on. Can these things be taken off? Aren’t they supposed to be restraints for criminals or something?”

“Well, technically, yeah,” I admitted. “But it’s more about interfering with your stats via a curse. It’s not the most secure form of magic. As far as secret arts go, the technique to bypass it isn’t even that classified. Honestly, I’m more surprised your family doesn’t know how to remove it, especially with your pedigree.”

Koharu puffed out her cheeks, clearly miffed. “Right, right. The Saegusa clan, generations of shut-ins born and raised in the mountains. A walking fossil of a bloodline. I get it.”

There was a bite to her words. Sharp and unmistakable.

Yeah, definitely stepped on a landmine there.

“If I upset you, I’m sorry,” I offered, sincerely. “But for what it’s worth, I don’t plan on cheating unless things get really bad. So let’s push on. Let’s go as far as we can.”

Saegusa gave a small nod. “Okay. I’ll… I’ll walk as far as I can. I want to try.”

※※※

Twenty-three hours later, the hundred-kilometer endurance trek came to an end in the courtyard of the old school building. All around us, students were collapsed on the ground, groaning or sprawled out in exhaustion. Not a single one was still standing.

The instructor, standing tall and proud, surveyed the wreckage with a satisfied nod.

“Students Saegusa and Maclaine have retired from the course. Seems they’ve voluntarily withdrawn. But I’m sure the veteran adventurer escorting them will make sure they get back safely.”

Just then, Lilith, who’d been sitting on the ground with her arms wrapped around her knees, pushed herself up to her feet with visible effort. Her knees wobbled, betraying the fatigue she’d tried to hide.

Even for her, it seemed, completing the full march without relying on enhanced stats had taken a serious toll.

“Instructor?”

The voice was low, steady.

The man turned. “What is it, Lilith?”

“You’re seriously expelling Ryuto? Voluntary withdrawal? Are you out of your mind?”

He blinked, confused, pulling an exaggerated, dumbfounded expression like a festival mask. “You’re the one who requested this training camp, designed for bottom-tier students, even though you’re in the elite scholarship class, and now you’re lecturing me?”

“Yes,” she said coldly. “And I’m asking you. No, I’m warning you. Are you in your right mind?”

“Come again? I told all of you before the start of the hundred-kilometer walk,” the instructor said with a frown. “Anyone who fails to complete it is considered to have dropped out. Maclaine showed surprising combat potential, I’ll admit that, but rules are rules.”

Lilith took a slow breath. Her voice dropped further, quiet and cutting.

“Let’s imagine something. Hypothetically.”

“Go on,” he said, humoring her.

“Let’s say… someone stronger than Cordelia Allston is hiding in this so-called bottom-tier class. Someone whose strength dwarfs hers so completely that they’ll soon be known across the world. Let’s say you were the one who expelled them. By your own judgment. By your own hand. What do you think happens next?”

The instructor gave a short, amused snort. “If that ever happened, I’d lose more than just my job. But it won’t. Because that kind of premise is absurd.”

Lilith didn’t respond right away. She simply muttered, more to herself than anyone else, “I’m telling you for your own good before you make a mistake you can’t undo. Instead of expelling Ryuto, give him a test. Take off the Shackles of Golgotha. Set him a task, anything will do. Some monster extermination mission, something straightforward.”

The instructor frowned again, not quite following. “What are you talking about?”

“You don’t need to understand. Just do it. You’ll see soon enough.”

“…”

“We’re not here because we care about this place,” she added, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “We chose it because it’s the closest to where the world’s about to fall apart. Cordelia Allston’s going to be at the center of a global disaster, and this school will be the first to feel the shockwave. That’s the only reason we’re here.”

And just as her voice faded, a wave of murmuring rippled across the training field. Something had shifted.

All eyes turned toward the school’s front gate; more specifically, toward the forest path stretching far beyond it.

Ryuto Maclaine was walking toward them. But that alone wasn’t why the field had fallen into a stunned, murmuring silence.

As Ryuto stepped onto the training grounds, the instructor broke into a jog and rushed to meet him.

“You… You carried her? And her gear?!”

The shock in his voice was understandable.

At that moment, Ryuto had nearly eighty kilograms strapped to his back. Koharu herself weighed about forty kilos, her pack another twenty, and his own gear added yet another twenty. Altogether, he had hauled that weight through the wilderness for hours.

“There wasn’t a rule saying I couldn’t carry someone,” Ryuto replied coolly.

The instructor squinted. “When did you start carrying her?”

“Around the twenty-kilometer mark. Even then, she held out as long as she could. Her feet were covered in burst blisters. She passed out from the pain partway through. But she tried damn hard. Pushed herself way past the limit. So I figured… I’d take the rest of her burden. That was the deal.”

The instructor stared at him for a long moment, then spoke slowly.

“You’re a Villager, yet you passed the entrance exam for our prestigious Altena Academy of Magic. I saw your performance in the mock battle. And now this, this endurance, this strength of will… Ryuto, are you really human?”

Ryuto let out a dry, breathless chuckle. Then, carefully, he lowered Koharu to the ground and unhooked her pack. He slipped off his own backpack and let it fall with a heavy thud, then crumpled forward, collapsing face-down in the grass like a man finally giving in.

“Human, yeah, just a regular Villager,” he murmured, his voice barely audible. “Anyway… I’m done… I need to sleep…”

Lilith approached without a word. She crouched beside him and gently draped her cloak over his body.

“Either way… I’m tired… So damn tired…” His voice trailed off.

Wrapped in Lilith’s cloak, Ryuto’s breathing grew slow and even. A soft, peaceful rhythm. His face was calm, almost serene.

And just like that, he was asleep.

Chapter 3: The Siege of Sashimimasu

I, Cordelia Allston, was furious.

“Aaagh! Enough already! They just keep coming!”

Shunk.

With a heavy, wet crack, the Ogre General’s lower jaw split clean from the upper, its massive head coming apart like butchered meat. The beast collapsed in a heap with a dull thud, shaking the ground as it fell.

I didn’t even glance at the rest of the ogres swarming ahead. Instead, I spun on my heel and sprinted back toward the fortress gates. Raising my right hand, I gave a sharp, unmistakable signal.

We were now forty-eight hours into this siege.

At my cue, a strike force surged out from behind the gate, an organized front of knights and seasoned adventurers, many of them instructors. They stormed forward in tight formation, blades drawn, spells at the ready.

Good. At the very least, they could handle the ogres without me for a while. If I had to deal with every single one of them, I’d be dead from exhaustion before dawn.

As things stood, I was the strongest fighter here. That wasn’t arrogance; it was fact. Which meant every resource in this fortress had to be deployed with one goal: keeping me functional for as long as possible. That decision had been made unanimously forty-eight hours ago.

Because if I fell, so would the rest of the two hundred defenders inside this fortress.

And if the fortress fell, then the town of Noches—population fifty thousand—would be next. Wiped out, without a chance.

We’d already suffered over twenty casualties. A bitter number, but considering the scale of what we were up against, it was a cost we had to accept.

My job was clear: take down the Ogre Generals. Let the others deal with the fodder. That was the only way to conserve my stamina.

That was what I told myself, anyway. That it was necessary. That it was logical.

But still, the taste of blood pooled in my mouth, my lips cracked and split from stress and fatigue. The copper sting only added to my rising nausea.

“How the hell did it come to this?” I muttered under my breath. “This was supposed to be a joint training exercise with the knights, wasn’t it? Just a simulated march. So why the hell… Why is it like this?!”

I passed beneath the shadow of the fortress gate, jaw clenched, heart pounding. And the nightmare still wasn’t over.

Well, calling it a gate was generous. The doors had been obliterated during the oni’s first assault.

I stormed through the ruined entrance into the fortress and immediately let my fury fly at the group waiting inside.

“You! You’re all supposed to be elite students, aren’t you?!” The words burst out of me, sharp with rage. “You’ve got layers of defense magic wrapped around this place, and there are forty of you standing here looking pretty! Don’t tell me you couldn’t hold out for even a little while without me! If all forty of you actually put your bodies on the line, it’s not like it’d be impossible, right?!”

No one said a word in response. Not that I blamed them. Deep down, I knew I was asking the impossible.

These kids were stronger, on paper, than most veteran adventurers or even knights. But they had no real combat experience. Most of them were pampered nobles, children of powerful families blessed with talent, wealth, and the best education money could buy. Their stats looked good, sure, but that was it.

They didn’t have the resolve to die. They didn’t have the will to fight. Not yet.

They were powerful, yes, but they weren’t warriors.

As things stood, they weren’t just useless. They were a liability.

“If I’m not out there, the Ogre Generals will take the chance to rush the gate! Without me, we don’t have the firepower to stop them. The barrier’s going to fall. If that happens, we’re finished! And yet… if I can’t push through to disrupt their command structure, we’re just going to be swallowed alive by their endless reinforcements! They just keep coming and coming… Dammit, what are we supposed to do?!”

Again, silence.

We’d already sent messengers to the Magic Academy and the surrounding lords when we first ran into that swarm of ogres. Reinforcements were coming, probably. But even if they were, it’d be another three or four days at best.

Logically, the only real option was to hunker down and wait it out. But even that felt like a death sentence.

I dropped into a chair and buried my face in my hands.

Took a swig of water. Muttered to no one.

Based on the scouts’ reports, those with reconnaissance skills, the enemy forces included at least fifty Ogre Generals and more than a thousand regular ogres.

“This isn’t some random surge. This is beyond abnormal.”

Ogres weren’t like goblins; they were elite monsters, not the kind you saw in swarms.

This number was beyond excessive. It was impossible.

But why? Why are the ogres still launching these scattered skirmishes instead of hitting us all at once?

I’d asked myself that question more times than I could count. And every time, I came back to the same answer.

Because this was about me. A slow, methodical form of harassment meant to wear me down personally. And it was working. My nerves were shot, my patience gone. I had nothing left to spare for kindness or consideration. I was in survival mode, pure and simple.

The enemy had clearly realized that I was the linchpin, the one irreplaceable piece in our defense. So they’d started sending in an Ogre General every hour, on the hour. Day and night, no breaks. Just enough pressure to keep me from sleeping. That was the goal—to deprive me of rest. To break me down before the real push.

At minimum, we still had three days until reinforcements arrived. But even that was uncertain. There was every chance the messengers had been intercepted and killed before they reached anyone. If that happened, no one would be coming. We were on our own.

If things continued like this, we’d be slowly crushed. No matter how strong the walls were, this wasn’t a fight we could win by holing up inside. Eventually, the fortress would fall.

“So, what now?”

If it were just about saving myself, the answer was simple: I could run. I had more than enough skill to get out alive.

But if I left, the others would be slaughtered.

There was one more option, high-risk, high-reward. I could break out and strike deep into enemy lines. If I managed to destroy their command structure, the ogre forces might lose cohesion and retreat. It was a long shot, but possible.

Still, it was a double-edged sword. If I made that move, I’d be abandoning the gate. The second I left, the ogres would crash through, and the students wouldn’t be able to hold. The casualties would be devastating. Maybe total.

Then again, staying here wasn’t sustainable either. Sooner or later, I’d collapse. And if I did, that would be the end anyway.

“Damn it… Fighting while defending is the worst.”

And going on the offensive wouldn’t be any easier. I’d have to face down potentially over a hundred Ogre Generals. To survive that, I’d need to unleash everything, activate Magic Overdrive, and push my body past its limit.

But Overdrive wasn’t free. It burned both magic and mana, converting that energy into raw physical power. It was effective but time-limited. I could only maintain it for so long before I crashed.

And when that happened, there’d be no getting back up.

A hundred Ogre Generals. That number, in a perfect scenario, at full power, if I opened with everything I had and every strike landed just right, then maybe I could wipe them out. Barely.

But if I ran out of time mid-fight, if I burned out before finishing the job, the outcome didn’t bear thinking about. Best case, I’d end up as a breeding vessel for their next generation. Worst case, they’d tear me apart alive, piece by piece.

“My stamina and focus… At best, I can keep myself in peak condition for a few more hours,” I muttered to myself, eyes narrowing.

Any longer, and the window would close. The longer I waited, the more energy I’d burn, and the shorter my operational time would be once I triggered Magic Overdrive. If I was going to make a move, it had to be now.

No more stalling.

“Get the chief instructor and the knight commander. Now,” I said, turning to one of the students standing nearby.

She didn’t say a word, just nodded and sprinted off, her expression grim.

The decision I’d reached wasn’t to hold the fort at all costs. And it wasn’t a reckless solo charge into enemy lines either. It was something else.

We would all attack together.

If the gate was going to fall anyway, the damage would be catastrophic no matter what. So instead of sitting back and waiting to be overrun, I’d lead a concentrated charge straight into the heart of their command structure. Take out the core in one decisive strike. It was risky, sure, but it gave us a better shot at survival than waiting to be picked off.

That was the calculus. And in war, sometimes that was all you had.

Just then, the chief instructor came running up to me.

“Lady Cordelia? You called for me?”

“For the last time, drop the ‘Lady,’ would you?” I sighed. “We’ve been over this. You’re the instructor, I’m the student. Let’s not make this weird.”

Not that I was keeping things formal either, but battlefield protocol was a luxury none of us had time for.

“Understood. So, what’s the situation?”

“I’m proposing a full-force breakout. Everyone, all at once.”

He hesitated, brow furrowing. “Cordelia, are you saying… The knights and the guild members, yes, but you want the elite students involved, too? Even the ones from noble families?”

“If they think they can defend this fortress without me, the knights, or the veteran adventurers, then by all means, they’re welcome to stay,” I said coolly. “It’s their call. I won’t stop them. Not that I’m expecting much from them as fighters.”

A lie, of course. If we charged headlong into that ogre horde as a single force, even the pampered elites would feel the fire at their backs. And once they were thrown into the chaos of a real battlefield, I was hoping, betting, that their raw potential as top-tier students would finally kick in. They were strong. The numbers didn’t lie. They just hadn’t been pushed far enough yet.

“Tell them this, from me,” I added. “Bet your life on whichever path gives you the best odds of survival.”

As I finished giving orders to the chief instructor, a stir ran through the fortress, focused around the front gate. I turned at once, instinct already bracing for what was coming.

The fifty-first probing attack, I thought grimly.

But the moment I stepped through the courtyard and saw the road beyond the gate, my breath caught.

The entire highway leading to the fortress was carpeted with ogres. A solid wall of muscle and tusks and hunger. And it didn’t stop there. The forest that lined the road, the enchanted Maze Woods, was teeming with them, too. Shoulder to shoulder. Packed between the trees like termites in a nest.

Ogres.

Ogres.

Ogres.

Endless ogres.

“I underestimated them.”

I had guessed, optimistically, that they had around a hundred Ogre Generals left.

But from what I was seeing now? At least two hundred.

And the regular ogres? Two thousand, minimum.

Even if we had launched a full-force charge, we would’ve been slaughtered.

I turned my gaze to the chief instructor. He met my eyes, frozen for a moment. Then he gave the smallest of shrugs, helpless and grim.

“Lady Cordelia, you have to run. If it’s just you, you can make it. You’re the sword of humanity. No, someday, you will be. You have to survive. Grow stronger. Fulfill that role.”

I exhaled slowly.

“How many times do I have to say it?” I said. “Drop the formality. Just Cordelia is fine.”

But retreat wasn’t an option. Not when the city behind this fortress would be wiped out if we fell.

I stood in silence, calculating.

Then I drew the sacred sword from its sheath.

I drew in a deep breath and shouted with everything I had.

“Cordelia Allston, Hero of the North, takes the vanguard! All units, follow meeeeee!”

The chief instructor had some nerve, expecting me to retreat alone. As if a hero could ever abandon her people and survive with her pride intact. That wasn’t how this worked. That wasn’t how I worked.

“Fine then,” I muttered, tightening my grip on the sacred sword. “Let’s see how far I can take this.”

I launched forward, sprinting past the shattered gate, straight into the jaws of the enemy horde, only to stop dead in my tracks as something fell from the sky.

Steel. Dozens of them. Thick, thirty-centimeter-long metal spikes, each one crashing down like divine wrath. No, not spikes. These were spears, lances hurled by gods.

There were just over twenty, but every single one struck true, piercing the hearts or skulls of scattered Ogre Generals. And then, they exploded, not with flame or magic, but sheer force. No enchantments, no spells. Just gravity, speed, and precision. When a mass that size was magically accelerated and dropped from a thousand meters above at supersonic speed, it didn’t just pierce; it wreaked havoc. Craters bloomed where the bodies had stood.

I knew that technique. I’d seen it before. And I couldn’t help but wonder, between the two of us, who was stronger now?

I exhaled a long, weary sigh.

“Seriously, why is it always like this? Why does he always show up exactly when I’m at my limit every single time?”

Looking skyward, I threw up my hands in surrender and gave a small, helpless shrug.

“There’s just no way not to fall for him after that…”

But sentiment would have to wait. I turned to the chief instructor, who was still frozen beside me, mouth slightly agape.

“Instructor?”

He blinked, shaking himself back to focus. “Yes? Lad— Cordelia?”

“Hold the gate. Use everyone you have. I’m going out there alone.”

He stared at me as if I’d lost my mind. “Alone? Surrounded by this many ogres? That’s suicide!”

“No,” I said quietly, my gaze fixed on the ruined road. “This is a guaranteed victory.”

He didn’t understand. But he would.

“I’ve held the line alone for forty-eight hours,” I muttered, voice tight with fatigue and fire. “Letting him and that girl swoop in and take all the credit at the very end? Yeah, no thanks. Not happening.”

“Him? That girl?” the chief instructor echoed, blinking in confusion. “But even if we lock the gate as you said, without you, Cordelia… we can’t hold it. The Ogre Generals will seize the moment and throw everything they’ve got at us.”

“Just seal the gate!” I snapped. “That’s all I’m asking. Just lock it down tight!”

And with that, I bolted.

No more hesitation. No more fears clawing at the back of my mind. All I had to do now was tear through the enemy with everything I had. There was nothing left to worry about. Nothing left to hold me back. Even if I fell here, I knew Ryuto would cover the rest. He always did.

All right then… Let’s get this ogre hunt started.

※※※

Two weeks earlier, on a full moon night, the sky was soaked in shades of black and deep indigo. A thick quiet clung to the world, the forest breathing in shadows.

Ryuto and I had slipped away from the dorms, wandering through the Maze Woods under the cover of night.

“Ryuto? What’s your take?” Lilith asked, blowing apart an Ogre General’s skull with a casual flick of high-tier magic.

“Not enough intel,” Ryuto muttered, pulverizing another General’s head with a single backhand.

Something had been gnawing at both of us since that hundred-kilometer trek with Koharu. A detail that didn’t sit right. By nature, Ogre Generals didn’t travel in packs. They were commanders, leaders who directed lesser ogres in battle.

But what we’d seen that day told a different story. Every last one of them had been an Ogre General. No grunts. No hierarchy.

And that wasn’t just unusual. It was unprecedented.

In just under two hours of wandering—well, patrolling, technically—we had taken down forty ogres and ten Ogre Generals. Fifty corpses were left behind with barely any effort.

Even for us, that was far from normal.

“This isn’t right,” I muttered, scanning the treetops.

“What now, Ryuto?” Lilith asked beside me, her tone calm but watchful.

“What do you mean?”

“The elite class. The one Cordelia Allston belongs to.”

“The same one you belong to,” I replied dryly.

At that, she gave a small chuckle. Whatever the joke was, it must’ve landed somewhere in her own mind.

“What about the possibility of a Great Calamity?” she asked softly. “If this is an early sign, a lot starts to make sense.”

A Great Calamity, an event that caused an entire species to undergo accelerated evolution, pushing them up an entire threat tier.

Ogres evolving into Ogre Generals. Ogre Generals into Ogre Kings. Then Ogre Kings into Ogre Emperors, and, beyond even that, into Oni Lords.

An Ogre Emperor was classified as over A-rank. Equivalent to an S-rank threat.

An Oni Lord? That was an over S-rank, the kind of thing they called SS. The kind of monster that demanded the full strategic might of an entire great nation just to bring it down.

I glanced around at the quiet forest, suddenly feeling like it was watching back.

“I think we’ve spent enough time playing tag with cadets in the woods,” I said.

“Huh?”

“We need to start preparing for the worst. And honestly, it’s starting to feel like this evolution isn’t natural. Like someone’s behind it. Forcing it.”

Lilith nodded slowly. “Yeah.”

“What’s the elite class’s next operation? Cordelia’s schedule?”

“A joint training exercise between the elite class and the knights… Wait, you mean that ceremony thing?”

“Exactly.”

“It’s in two weeks. Technically, it’s just a formal training march meant to prepare noble heirs from the Academy for future positions in knight orders or royal courts. It’s mostly symbolic. They’ll be marching through the Maze Woods, but they’ll stick to the main road. There’s no chance they’ll enter dangerous zones.”

No chance if things were normal, but they weren’t.

“Hey, Lilith,” I said, keeping my voice low as we moved through the underbrush.

She didn’t stop walking but turned her head slightly. “Hmm?”

“I told you, didn’t I? Plan for the worst.”

She frowned faintly, unsure where I was going with it. “Right.”

I narrowed my eyes, scanning the path ahead. “I think their target is Cordelia.”

Lilith blinked. “Cordelia?”

“Yeah. Think about it. If someone’s engineering this, artificially accelerating ogre evolution, then it’s not just chaos. It’s a directed attack. And there’s only one person worth aiming something like that at.”

Lilith exhaled slowly, the realization settling into her posture. “You’re saying we join her march.”

“We have to,” I said flatly.

She glanced sideways at me, incredulous. “Ryuto, we’re bottom class. On probation. If we ditch this training, we’ll be expelled.”

I gave a short, dry laugh. “Two weeks from now. We’ve got our own forest march, remember?”

Her brow furrowed. “You mean that march?”

“Exactly. Maze Woods training. Same forest. Same time.”

“You’re serious,” she said, not even phrasing it as a question this time.

“Dead serious.” I shoved a low branch aside. “We hijack the march, slip away mid-op, and meet up with Cordelia’s squad.”

“And the instructors? You think they’ll just ignore that?”

A smirk tugged at the corner of my mouth. “They won’t need to. I’ve got a plan.”

※※※

Two weeks later, deep in the Maze Woods.

This time, they hadn’t used the Shackles of Golgotha. It was understandable, since this march wasn’t just a scenic route along the roadside. We were heading deep into uncharted forest territory. Real danger. Real risk.

And they’d made that clear up front. In the past decade, two students had died on this very exercise. That was enough to light a fire under everyone.

Even the most arrogant kids had been studying like mad: learning to identify claw marks that marked monster territory, analyzing droppings to estimate distance and size, even factoring in moisture content to track movement patterns. Grim stuff, but it could save your life.

Guys like us, from the bottom rungs, usually ended up doing grunt adventurer work anyway. Dirty jobs, escort missions, monster cleanup. Knowing this kind of stuff was the difference between scraping by and ending up dead in a ditch.

In its own brutal way, it was one of the more practical things the Academy actually taught.

As we moved through the forest in tight formation, I cast a sideways glance at Lilith walking beside me and asked, voice low, “Lilith. You feel that?”

“Yeah.” Her response came slowly, reluctantly, like she was hoping I wouldn’t bring it up. But she nodded all the same.

“Fifteen minutes. That’s my guess.”

“Fifteen minutes…?” she repeated, brows knitting.

“Our instructor has a whole arsenal of ranger-type skills,” I said, gaze fixed on the dense canopy above us.

“I don’t remember him saying anything like that,” she muttered, skeptical.

“He didn’t have to. Just watch him move. You can see it plain as day. And if I’m right, it won’t be long before he realizes what’s going on.”

She exhaled, the weight of the situation settling onto her shoulders. “And when he does, it’ll be full-blown panic.”

“No doubt,” I said grimly. “There’s an entire swarm of ogres sweeping across the Maze Woods, way beyond what anyone would call natural. Two hundred Ogre Generals. Two thousand standard ogres. This isn’t something a small knight detachment can deal with. This is an extinction event.”

Lilith didn’t reply right away. Her voice was quiet when she finally asked, “So what’s the plan?”

I looked out toward the east, where Cordelia’s unit was stationed. The fortress was four kilometers away, close enough to reach on foot if I pushed it.

But that wasn’t where I was going.

Instead, I unshouldered my hiking pack and tossed it to the ground.

“The ogre formation’s center is west, two clicks that way,” I said, jerking my chin in the opposite direction.

“You’re going west?” she asked, confused. “But Cordelia’s to the east. If we’re trying to help her, shouldn’t we go toward her?”

I didn’t hesitate. “I’m going to herd the Ogre Generals from behind. Push them.”

Lilith stared at me for a beat, frozen. Then gave a bright, incredulous smile.

“Sorry, I think I misheard. That made no sense.”

I shrugged, tilting my head slightly. “There are about two hundred Ogre Generals, right? And around two thousand ogres.”

“All I know is it’s over a thousand total,” she said cautiously. “But go on…”

I met her gaze. “So?”

“If you’re the one saying it,” Lilith murmured, her tone calm but utterly firm, “then it must be true. One hundred percent.”

She didn’t blink, didn’t waver. Just nodded with quiet conviction, complete trust etched across her face.

“Exactly,” I said, watching the treetops as I spoke. “Which means, it’s just a massive crowd of weaklings. No real threat.”

Lilith gave me a dry, sidelong glance. “You say that like you’re talking about a bunch of goblins,” she said, voice laced with exasperated disbelief. “For regular people, ogres are lethal. And Ogre Generals? They’re serious monsters, enough of a threat that even veteran adventurers tread carefully. This isn’t some minor monster problem. This is the kind of thing that forces lords to coordinate across territories, where the kingdom itself gets involved—”

I raised a hand to cut her off. “Yeah, yeah, I get it. But the point is—”

She tilted her head, wary. “What?”

“I can handle it. On my own.”

Her reply came instantly, flat and bitter. “And that’s the part that really pisses me off. You actually can.”

A grin tugged at the corner of my mouth. “Then that settles it.”

“Settles what?”

“I’m going to drive them from behind. Chase the bastards forward.”

She groaned, throwing her hands slightly up. “That’s the part that still makes no sense!”

I shrugged casually, feigning innocence. “You’re not following?”

She folded her arms. “We’re mid-march, Ryuto. You know that.”

“Right.”

“And we’re not allowed to leave formation. If we break ranks, we’re out. Done. Expelled. You know that.”

“Exactly. But I also know Cordelia’s out there, and she’s the target. Which means I have to help her. So…”

“So?”

“I’ll make the instructors want to retreat. Back toward Cordelia. Voluntarily.”

Lilith stared at me, baffled, until realization bloomed in her eyes.

“You’re going to spook the ogre horde. Get them to scatter. Make them run. And once our instructors see that, see those monsters bolting in terror, they’ll freak out and head straight for Cordelia’s unit.”

“Exactly,” I said with a nod, letting a small, smug grin creep in. “Simple, right? Clean. Efficient.”

“The tricky part,” I said, stretching my legs in a slow crouch, “is which direction the ogres run. If they scatter in the wrong direction, they’ll end up crossing paths with Cordelia’s unit too soon. That forces a roundabout retreat, and things get messy. So I’ll need to steer them. Drive them just right.”

Lilith sighed, her arms folded tightly across her chest. “You’re completely insane. You know that, right?”

I gave a small shrug, rolling my shoulders. “Which is why I’m off. I’ll leave Koharu to you, okay?”

I turned and cast a glance behind us at Koharu, still half-crushed under the weight of her own hiking pack, lying in the underbrush like a beetle flipped on its back.

“I’ll leave Koharu here,” Lilith said calmly, her eyes tracking me. “I’ll head for the fortress. That little critter is technically A-rank, isn’t she?”

“She is,” I admitted, my expression tightening, “but she’s got some serious trauma.”

“She won’t have time to think about that once the flames are licking her heels,” Lilith said flatly. Then, with a sharp edge in her voice, she added, “You really are soft on pretty girls, Ryuto.”

The words struck deep, sharper than a blade. Lilith’s glare turned icy, piercing, as she’d just driven a frozen dagger into my chest.

“She’ll awaken when push comes to shove,” I muttered. “Probably. But why are you heading to the fortress ahead of me?”

Her tone didn’t waver. “Because once you spook those ogres, there’s a real chance they’ll charge the fortress with everything they’ve got.”

“It’ll only take me a few minutes to clean them up,” I countered. “Cordelia’s an A-rank level fighter. She can hold out.”

“She can’t. Not alone,” Lilith snapped, the first crack of heat in her voice. “That’s why I’m going. Ryuto, you’ve gotten too strong for your own good. You’ve forgotten what it’s like for the rest of us. Two hundred Ogre Generals against a solo A-rank adventurer? That’s a serious threat.”

I frowned, unconvinced. “Are they really that tough? I mean… they’re still just ogres.”

Lilith sighed, exasperated. “For someone like me, or Cordelia Allston, they’re dangerous if the numbers stack up. But if the two of us work together? I’ll support from the rear, she’ll lead the charge. We won’t lose.”

“I dunno,” I muttered. “Sounds like overkill. You and Cordelia, struggling against that?”

Her response was curt. “This conversation is exhausting. You really should try understanding just how absurd your strength has become.”

I opened my mouth to protest. “Yeah, but—”

Lilith let out a sigh, her shoulders lifting in a small, exaggerated shrug. The kind that said, “I’m so done with this conversation.”

“Fine then,” she muttered. “Let’s wrap it up like this. You handle everything. I’ll head for the fortress. That puts about four kilometers between us, in a straight line. With that range, I can still use basic sage arts. So if you stay here, you can watch over Koharu and the rest while still corralling the ogres.”

Ah. So that’s what she meant.

She wanted me to use that technique.

“All right,” I said, nodding. “I’ll meet you at the fortress.”

“Right. See you soon,” she replied casually. And with that, she took off in a light run, her boots barely making a sound on the forest path as she dashed eastward.

Tap, tap, tap, tap.

Her footsteps faded quickly into the distance.

“Hey! Lilith!” a voice bellowed, one of the instructors.

I heard her click her tongue, and the next moment, she vaulted into the air ten meters up, disappearing into the dense canopy above, swallowed by branches and leaves.

A ripple of murmurs and gasps spread through the other students like wildfire.

“Don’t give me orders.” That was the message, clear as day, even without words. A quiet, emphatic warning from Lilith, delivered through sheer action.

Even the veteran adventurers assigned to guard us—close-combat specialists, no less—stood stunned. That leap wasn’t something just anyone could pull off.

And Lilith wasn’t even a frontliner. She was a Mage.

“That movement. She’s ranked what? C+ as a combat mage? How the hell is she pulling off something like that?” one of the veterans muttered, clearly rattled.

Yeah, I figured they’d be shocked. That jump? Easily B-rank level for a close-range fighter. But Lilith’s growth was weird like that. She was technically magic-leaning, but with her father’s blessing, she was built like an all-rounder. A rare one.

“Anyway…” I muttered under my breath, rolling my shoulders.

“What’s the plan, Ryuto?” came a soft voice beside me.

I turned to see Koharu watching me with wide, uncertain eyes.

I gave a wry smile. “Yeah, well, still trying to decide.”

Man… what am I even supposed to do here?

I let out a long sigh and glanced up through the canopy.

Yeah. In the end, there was only one real option. Exactly what Lilith had probably been thinking from the start.

Resigned, I closed my eyes and focused, channeling my intent inward as I initiated the mental link between us.

“Mm. What is it?” came her voice inside my head, soft but clear.

“I mean, what do you think it is?”

“That’s not an answer. So… what?”

“You already know. I’m going to activate it. I’m borrowing your magical computation field for a bit.”

A low, amused chuckle echoed in my mind.

“No matter how powerful you become, Ryuto, you’re still human, aren’t you? Even with a power bordering on divinity…”

“What the hell’s that supposed to mean?”

“Just this. Without me backing you up, you can’t even access half your strength.”

“Wow. So it’s gonna be that kind of conversation, huh? Was that a dig?”

“No. Not at all.”

“Then what?”

“Even half your power… is enough to rival legends.”

“What’s your point?”

“That I can support someone like you. That makes me proud, Ryuto.”

“Gods, you’re exhausting.”

Even as I grumbled, I started channeling the spell, composing it through Lilith’s mental magical circuits. With her backing, I could build something far beyond the capabilities of a standard human.

That was when Koharu’s eyes went wide. Her expression changed instantly, lips parting in alarm.

“Ryuto-kun, what are you… doing… right now…?”

She’d noticed. Of course she had.

I glanced around. None of the others seemed to have picked up on it. Just her. I was keeping the activation as low-profile as humanly possible.

She took a slow step closer, voice trembling. “That… That spell… It’s not just high-level… You’re drawing on tens of thousands of mana, aren’t you? That’s not normal magic… That’s on the scale of a national-level ritual. Right…?”

Bullseye.

As expected of the Saegusa family, nobility from the east, sharp as ever.

Well, I was drawing on over six digits of mana right now, so her reaction made sense.

“Yeah,” I said with a casual nod. “You’re right.”

Her voice wavered as she stared at me, pale and trembling, cold sweat glistening on her skin. “So then… what exactly are you… doing?”

“Huh? What do you mean?” I tilted my head innocently. “It’s sagecraft.”

Her whole body jolted with a twitch, her mouth falling open as she choked out a stunned, “Huh?”

Sagecraft, a form of lost technology, half-legendary and rarely spoken of in modern times. Those who wielded it were called sages: beings who defied aging, split the heavens with a gesture, cracked the earth with a sigh. Warriors who transcended mortal limits, walking myths with power approaching the divine.

The most famous of them all was Liu Kai, the Immortal Sage. Companion to the Dragon King, master of arts, long vanished from the world. And my teacher. Ah, yeah, kind of my drinking buddy too.

Compared to Koharu, who needed divine aid to cast high-tier spells, I was working with something else on a completely different level.

And with that, I activated the sage technique, projecting it westward, exactly two kilometers from where we stood.

The target: the ogre horde.

I needed to drive them. Like a shepherd commands his dogs to herd sheep, I had to maneuver the monsters, steer them straight toward Cordelia’s fortress.

And for that, I needed hounds.

【Combat Sage Art: Phantom Vanguard activated.】

Originally, this technique was designed as a decoy spell. It created multiple physical clones of the caster, surrounding them in a living shield of false bodies. Useful for confusing enemies, misdirecting attacks, and classic bait-and-switch.

Normally, those clones carried only a fraction of the caster’s true strength, somewhere between one-tenth and one-hundredth, depending on the user.

Though really, most people couldn’t use this technique at all. Not because it was hard, but because it was completely outside modern magical theory.

And when they did try, the result was pitiful. Flimsy puppets that broke if you so much as breathed on them.

But in my case… Well, the original was already kind of absurd, so naturally, the clones turned out a little ridiculous too.

The result?

My sagecraft had conjured a squad of phantoms, each with the combat power equivalent to a B- rank adventurer. To put that into perspective, Ogre Generals were typically rated around C+, with regular ogres around D-. My doppelgängers were a step above either.

Remember that martial arts bodyguard from the Phantom Tower incident? The one that the arrogant noble sent to harass Lilith? My clones were about that strong.

So, in simpler terms—

Fifty clones. Fifty Ryuto Maclaines. A whole army of me, charging straight into the ogres’ rear lines like a pack of elite adventurers from hell.

※※※

Roughly thirty minutes later, a thundering wave of ogres came crashing toward us from the western road, eyes bloodshot with panic and rage. A full-blown stampede.

The instructors weren’t idiots. It didn’t take long for them to realize where the ogres were headed: straight for the fortress, where Cordelia had rallied the knights and special-class students.

Which meant staying on the main road was a death sentence.

But fleeing deeper into the Maze Woods wasn’t a great alternative either. That meant wandering into unknown monster territory, and the risks there weren’t much better.

In the end, we settled for hiding just off the road, crouched low in a patch of tangled underbrush. Nothing fancy, just out of sight. Or so we hoped.

Not that it helped much.

The students had no idea what was really going on. Following orders, they covered their mouths and huddled down in the thicket, trying not to breathe too loudly. But our opponents weren’t human. They were ogres. Wild beasts with more instinct than intellect. Disguising your appearance wasn’t enough. You had to erase your scent, your aura, your presence entirely.

And we weren’t doing that. Not really.

All we were doing was hiding in bushes and hoping for the best. We weren’t even fully obscured from the road.

I sighed and muttered under my breath, “Guess I’ve got no choice…”

Once more, I reached out to Lilith through the mental link and began activating the sagecraft ritual sequence.

And once more, Koharu’s face drained of color. Her voice trembled as she turned toward me, eyes wide.

“Ryuto-kun, you just did something completely insane again, didn’t you?”

Meanwhile, one of the instructors was glancing around nervously, turning in small circles as he scanned the surroundings. He clearly had no idea who’d done what, but he could feel it. He sensed that some kind of protective spell had been cast over the group.

I raised a brow and turned back to Koharu. “Oh? You can tell what I did?”

Her jaw tightened as she gave a short, almost reluctant nod. “Even I can recognize this.”

“Then go ahead. Tell me.”

She swallowed hard and began listing, one hesitant word at a time. “First, optical camouflage. Then a basic sensory illusion that scrambles olfactory perception, followed by mild spatial isolation at the level of air currents, and lastly, a low-grade sonic barrier?”

Bingo.

What we had now was full-spectrum stealth, an all-in-one, passive concealment field. Right now, we were effectively a black hole carved out of the forest floor. Isolated. Untraceable.

“Correct,” I said with a slight grin. “There are other spells that do similar things, of course.”

These kinds of stealth techniques were always in demand, though rarely studied. Too subtle, too technical. Most magic students went for flashy fireballs or dramatic elemental attacks. But me? I’d picked this up as part of my sagecraft fundamentals.

Well, “picked up” wasn’t quite accurate. It had been drilled into me. One of those lessons that “just happened” when you trained under a sage.

【Combat Sage Art: Form Zero (No-Color Mode)】

Form Zero was the starting point. Form Nine, the end.

If you mastered all nine, your body would transcend mortality, your soul becoming a spiritual entity completely merged with nature: immortal, ageless, indistinguishable from the divine.

A god in all but name.

Of course, that sort of thing didn’t interest me, so I only ever bothered to learn the first form.

Koharu stared at me, still visibly shaken. “This is a technique used by covert operatives, isn’t it? Both the eastern realms and the western nations have intelligence agencies with similar methods, though they go by different names.”

Right, like in the eastern nations, their operatives were literally called ninja.

And to make things worse, I’d heard that in the west, they had a completely skewed idea of what ninjas were. Thought of them more like comic book superheroes with psychic powers. Honestly, the image kind of fit right now.

“But still…” Koharu’s voice trailed off uneasily.

I glanced at her. “What is it?”

“Right now, not even wild animals or adventurers with high-level detection skills can sense us, can they?”

“That’s right,” I confirmed, nodding.

“Even trained covert operatives can barely conceal their own presence, let alone others. They’re lucky if they can hide themselves effectively.”

“Yeah, that tracks,” I said, half-listening.

She took a step closer, voice now rising with disbelief. “This level of stealth is the kind of thing a prodigy might achieve after dedicating over a decade of their life to mastering it.”

“Sounds about right.”

“But you managed to erase completely the presence of nearly fifty people. As if we don’t even exist.”

Right then, a stampede of ogres thundered past just meters in front of us.

They didn’t see us. Didn’t smell us. Didn’t even pause.

Just moments ago, that same horde had been blindsided, slaughtered by something they couldn’t comprehend. And even now, at the tail end of the formation, they were still being hunted. Their numbers were thinning fast, bodies carved down like butter under a hot knife.

Their eyes were bloodshot, wide with terror. Their faces contorted with panic, foam at their mouths, chests heaving. Screaming, babbling, fleeing like cornered animals in a slaughterhouse.

And really, who could blame them?

Fifty adventurers, each at B-rank power level, had appeared out of nowhere to strike the rear guard.

In a backwater kingdom, that would’ve been considered an army-crushing, apocalyptic force.

Once the last of the ogres vanished into the woods beyond, I clapped my hands once, the sharp slap breaking the silence.

“Area secured,” I said with a nod. “Now then, I guess it’s time I caught up to Lilith.”

※※※

Cordelia Allston burst out from the gates of the fortress, only to freeze at the sight before her. The sheer devastation stretched out in all directions; carnage painted across the landscape with such intensity that it nearly defied comprehension. She stared for a long moment, then exhaled, her voice edged with both awe and exasperation.

“This is seriously insane. And where in the world is she casting from?”

Overhead, the skies still flared red at regular intervals. Divine Slayer: Lance of Longinus, a secret art of the dragons, continued to fall from the heavens like burning meteors. Each lance streaked downward in rhythmic succession, crackling with energy before slamming into the earth in explosions of divine violence. Twenty spears. Thirty. Forty. Past fifty, Cordelia gave up trying to count. It was no longer worth tracking, only surviving.

The road ahead was drenched in blood. Ogres and Ogre Generals alike littered the ground in mangled heaps, victims of an unrelenting aerial massacre. Torn skulls, split torsos, steaming entrails; everywhere she looked, the red-soaked path was overflowing with the consequences of unchecked power. The air reeked of scorched flesh and shattered bone.

Whatever unity the ogre horde once had was gone. Their formations had crumbled; their discipline had vanished. Cordelia couldn’t have known the reason behind it—how Ryuto Maclaine’s phantom army had driven the monsters into a blind retreat—but she could see the aftermath. The moment they reached the fortress, thinking they might escape whatever horrors chased them, they’d been met with divine judgment falling from the skies.

Now, they were little more than terrified beasts, running wild in all directions. There was no order to them anymore, only chaos and fear. For those who could still think, Cordelia must have seemed the lesser evil. They knew she was powerful, ranked somewhere in the upper tiers of the Adventurer Guild’s B-class, but in their broken minds, facing her was a better gamble than turning back toward whatever force had ripped apart their rear.

But they didn’t know the truth. They didn’t know who she really was. Not yet. They had no idea what Cordelia Allston became when she stopped conserving her strength, when she abandoned tactics and let the wild core of her power surge forward. What they would see now was no knight, no noble prodigy.

They were about to witness a human-devouring Shura.

Cordelia stepped forward slowly, lifting a hand to sweep her long crimson hair over one shoulder. Her eyes burned with the same fire as the spears in the sky, deep and unrelenting, bright as blood. Then came the glow. It wasn’t a simple aura or loose magical leakage. It was a full-body ignition, an inferno of controlled chaos that wrapped around her limbs and torso like armor forged of living flame.

She had activated Magic Overdrive. Not the wild, frenzied version most spellcasters feared, but a perfect, honed manifestation of it, fully under her control. And with that, she launched herself forward, sprinting straight into the ogres’ broken formation.

Her blade rose overhead in a single, fluid motion. And then it came down—an execution, not a battle cry.

To the fleeing ogres, it was the return of death itself. A nightmare in the form of a girl.

And that nightmare’s name… was Cordelia Allston.

She swung her sword, and in the same breath, heads went flying. Blood surged skyward in arcs so violent they looked like fountains erupting from the earth.

She swung again; this time, torsos split open. Entrails spilled out or were flung through the air like discarded rope. Bodies crumpled before they even realized they’d been hit.

Another swing, and limbs detached, spiraling into the dirt. The guttural, broken screams of ogres rattled through the trees, sounding like trapped, feral spirits shrieking their last.

Each strike felled multiple enemies at once. With every motion of her blade, a handful of ogres died—slain not in duels but by the passing of a whirlwind. To any outside observer, her sword wasn’t just fast. It wasn’t visible. A red blur at the heart of a storm.

Cordelia moved like a blood-soaked hurricane, her every step leaving a trail of carnage. Corpses piled up in mounds wherever she passed: layers upon layers, grotesque monuments marking her advance.

And not a single drop of blood touched her.

It was absolute. One-sided. A slaughter without resistance or reprisal. Her aura alone seemed to part the battlefield.

She kept moving west, down the highway, carving a path through the heart of the ogre force. Everything that entered her vision died. Ogres. Ogre Generals. It didn’t matter. Her sword knew no distinction. Her presence left behind utter and total silence. There were no survivors. No escapees. Nothing breathing left in her wake.

Far above, spears still fell from the heavens; Lilith’s divine bombardment sculpting its own trail of ruin.

Lilith painted the skies with death.

Cordelia painted the earth.

Their enemies weren’t weak. Far from it. But this was why A-rank adventurers were called “tactical weapons.” Not people. Not assets. Weapons. Forces of nature shaped into human form.

And now, down the same bloodied road, another figure raced to catch up, her voice sharp with disbelief as she muttered to herself.

“Seriously. There’s brute force, and then there’s this.”

The girl, Lilith, had been cloaked in high-grade magical camouflage until moments ago, an intricate fusion of optical and spiritual concealment.

Cordelia, for all her monstrous strength, was a pure close-combat specialist. She had no affinity with magic, no detection skills to speak of. And Lilith’s stealth, enhanced by ancient dragon arts, wasn’t something just anyone could pierce.

Cordelia never sensed her. She hadn’t noticed. But the truth was, Lilith had been there the whole time, watching from only a few steps away.

Even more, it meant Lilith had unleashed those devastating Longinus spears across the battlefield without a single soul noticing she was even there.

At present, Lilith had been entrusted with Cordelia’s support. That meant one thing above all: she had to keep Cordelia within visible range. No matter what happened, she needed to be close enough to react, close enough to intervene the moment the tide turned.

That was why she’d stayed right at her side.

And that, in turn, meant she had witnessed Cordelia’s swordsmanship up close. With nothing in the way. No barrier of distance, no blur of battle.

“I’m a Mage,” Lilith muttered under her breath. “My job class doesn’t rely on brute strength… but even so…”

Cordelia was cutting down ogres in a blazing sprint, tearing through the horde like a living weapon, utterly relentless. Every enemy that entered her field of vision was drawn into the whirlwind and destroyed. And yet, what left Lilith speechless wasn’t just the raw violence.

It was the speed.

Even with Lilith running flat out, without casting a single spell or taking a single detour, she couldn’t catch up. Even worse, Cordelia was slowly pulling ahead.

“Ridiculous. This is talent. This is what it means to be chosen as a Hero.”

There was bitterness in her voice. She didn’t try to hide it. The words slipped out like a curse as she forced her legs to pump harder, her boots tearing through the forest floor with renewed urgency.

Cordelia was beyond her limit now, burning through her reserves with everything she had, racing headlong into the enemy’s center without a single glance back. If Lilith lost sight of her and Cordelia reached her breaking point deep in enemy lines, isolated…

That would be a disaster.

Because Ryuto had entrusted Lilith with Cordelia’s safety. And Lilith knew one unshakable truth about Ryuto Maclaine: he never left anything to chance. He only entrusted tasks to people he knew could complete them.

Which meant she couldn’t fail. Wouldn’t fail. She had to see this through.

“But still, this speed… This is absurd. She’s a walking musclehead.”

She clicked her tongue in frustration.

Cordelia’s silhouette was shrinking ahead, her figure growing smaller with every passing second. At this rate, she’d vanish completely.

Lilith felt a bead of cold sweat roll down her spine, and then, suddenly, Cordelia’s sword stopped.

Up ahead, the highway stretched out in the distance. Standing at its center was Cordelia, motionless.

Around her, roughly two hundred ogres loomed, closing in from all sides.

It wasn’t the kind of force that should’ve given her pause. Not under normal circumstances. That many ogres wouldn’t have even slowed her down. But Cordelia hadn’t stopped for no reason.

There was something else.

Mixed among the lesser monsters, she’d spotted them: about fifty Ogre Generals, grouped tightly around the center.

That alone was enough to make any borderland lord pale and start begging the capital and the Adventurer’s Guild for reinforcements. It was the kind of force that spelled doom for small nations.

But for Cordelia, in her current state, even that wasn’t enough to justify stopping. Unless her body hit its limit, she wasn’t going to lose. Not today.

Still, she was on a timer.

With Magic Overdrive pushing her beyond human limits, her body was burning through energy like a collapsing star. The longer she waited, the more time she lost. Under normal logic, she should’ve already thrown herself into the thick of it, struck fast, cut deep, ended it before her window closed.

But she didn’t. Because even Cordelia knew what would happen if she misjudged this charge. If she rushed in carelessly, she wouldn’t walk out. Not even her.

The threat wasn’t just the Generals. At the center of the ogre formation stood something much larger… like an Ogre General that had been inflated grotesquely, grown bloated and monstrous. It was an Ogre King.

Two of them, in fact.

Cordelia’s eyes narrowed. Ogre Kings were rated B+ to A-rank threats. A single one could level a frontier fort if left unchecked. And now, there were two.

From behind, Lilith cursed under her breath. “So even dragons’ stealth arts can’t fool something that powerful…”

The moment the Ogre Kings appeared, Lilith had cloaked herself again, layering herself in every concealment technique she had. But it was no use.

One of the Ogre Kings was still locked onto Cordelia, muscles tensed, ready to strike.

The other had turned.

Its eyes were locked on Lilith.

Cordelia noticed the shift. She didn’t turn around, but her voice was calm and steady, carrying easily through the air.

“Well, I figured you were nearby. No one drops pinpoint spears from orbit and isn’t close.”

Lilith finally caught up, panting as she slowed to a stop beside her. Her breath came in short, irritated bursts.

“Of course, I’m close,” she muttered. “Ryuto told me to keep you alive.”

Cordelia tossed her head with an irritated flick, running a hand through her crimson hair as her gaze swept over the battlefield. Her voice, low and edged with disdain, cut the air like a knife. “Guard me, huh? That whole ‘looking down from above’ thing doesn’t sit right with me.”

Lilith didn’t flinch. Her own tone, flat and unapologetic, answered without pause. “Cooperation? Spare me. Let me be perfectly clear while I have the chance. Cordelia Allston, I don’t like you.”

The bluntness made Cordelia blink, her lips parting slightly. For a moment, she seemed genuinely taken aback. Then, slowly, a grin spread across her face, sharp and wicked. “Oh? What a coincidence.”

Lilith narrowed her eyes. “Coincidence?”

“Yeah.” Cordelia chuckled, the sound dark and oddly delighted. “I don’t like you either. Not one bit. And I sure as hell don’t plan on getting along.”

There was a beat of silence, then both women nodded, a mutual smirk tugging at their lips, though the chill in their eyes betrayed the truth. Nothing about this was friendly.

Cordelia folded her arms, surveying the still-thick horde of ogres ahead. Her voice had cooled, slipping into something pragmatic. “Alright. Setting feelings aside for a moment… This situation. We both know neither of us can handle it solo. If we’re not going to team up, how do you plan on surviving this?”

Lilith exhaled, her tone flat and bored as ever. “The answer is simple.”

Cordelia raised an eyebrow. “Simple, huh?”

Without another word, Lilith thrust her staff forward. A sharp hum filled the air as a current of magic flared to life, gathering in a brilliant, razor-thin crescent. With a flick, she loosed the spell.

A Vacuum Blade tore through the center of the ogre formation, ripping the air apart with a scream of displaced pressure and leaving a bloody furrow in its wake.

Cordelia watched in silent awe before letting out a breath. “Vacuum Blade? Tell me, what are you trying to do?”

Lilith offered a single, deliberate nod. “This,” she said flatly.

Her finger traced the gouge in the earth, an unmistakable scar etched into the ground by pure magical force. She pointed to the right half of the wound. “Everything on this side is under my control.”

At that, Cordelia’s eyes lit up. She tilted her head, accepting the line Lilith had drawn. Then, with a playful glint, she grinned and gave a hearty nod of approval.

They both knew what the line meant: territory. Alliance. Strategy. They might not like each other, but divided as they were, together, their combined might could swing the tide.

What remained now was simple: coordinate without words and act as one.

Lilith met Cordelia’s gaze steadily, her voice cool and businesslike. “And this side?” she asked, sweeping her hand across the scorched earth.

Cordelia’s eyes followed the line etched into the ground. “The left side is mine?” she repeated, tone calm but confident.

“Exactly,” Lilith replied without hesitation. “We’ll stick to mutual non-interference. Got a problem with that?”

Cordelia’s response was immediate—a broad, emphatic shake of her head. “No problems at all. In fact, I like how clear it is… Very thoughtful!”

With that agreement, they turned back toward the trolls of the battlefield, each staking their claim in the war-torn land.

“Crimson Blaze,” Lilith murmured, her tone lazy yet precise as she unleashed a sweeping incantation. A ring of fire roared to life before her, incinerating dozens of ogres at once in a searing display of mastery.

This was clearly high-tier area-of-effect magic, something even well-trained mages would hesitate to repeat due to the enormous mana consumption. But Lilith didn’t hesitate.

“Crimson Blaze. Crimson Blaze. Crimson Blaze. And again, Crimson Blaze,” she repeated, relentlessly casting spell after spell. Each wave of heat swallowed more ogres; even the mighty Ogre Generals turned to ash at her fingertips.

Cordelia chuckled in amazement, swinging her sword in a brutal dance of slashes and arcs. “You know, I can’t recall the last time a Mage outpaced me in clearing a horde.”

Lilith shrugged, brushing stray hair from her robe. “Ranged magic that can keep up with swordplay on a killing field… Your kind of brute force… Honestly, it’s impressive.”

They exchanged knowing smirks, a silent camaraderie born of respect, not warmth.

Cordelia increased the speed of her deadly dance, plunging deep into the enemy mass. Beside her, Lilith withdrew dozens of metal stakes from within her white robes, the same divine spears she’d used before.

One was the Crimson Princess’s whirlwind of blood and steel. The other, a practitioner of ancient dragon arts raining down divine judgment.

On one side, divine spears launched by a Mage, wielding the ancient mysteries of dragons. In mere moments, Ogres and General Ogres alike were cut down like wheat before the scythe.

Even the Orc Kings seemed to recognize that against these two opponents, they had no viable strategy left. Their faces twisted with desperate realization as they stood rooted to the spot, hands clenched uselessly at their sides, watching their forces get annihilated at a horrifying pace until they were left completely exposed and defenseless.

Roughly five minutes had elapsed since Lilith had casually announced her plan to take either half. The aftermath was a grotesque monument of corpses stacked high across the battlefield, with only two Orc Kings remaining among the living.

“Well then. The small fry have been dealt with.” Lilith’s words drifted through the air with languid indifference.

Cordelia seamlessly continued the thought, a bead of sweat trickling down her cheek as anticipation flickered in her voice. “Shall we move on to the main course?” she asked, voice steady but with a hint of fatigue. “These two are still A-rank threats. Don’t expect a simple fight. If you get cut off, I can’t cover your back.”

Lilith tilted her head, lips curving into a reluctant smile. “That goes both ways, Princess.”

They readied their weapons, sword and staff, eyes locked on the looming Ogre Kings on the highway. The tension was electric, a silent pact of mutual respect fueling their combat readiness. But before they could advance, Lilith’s expression drained of color. Her knees buckled, and she collapsed to the ground in an instant.

Cordelia frowned, concern flashing across her eyes. “Lilith? What’s wrong? Why—?”

Lilith hissed a warning, gesturing for Cordelia to drop low beside her. “Trust me, get down.”

“What? Why? I don’t understand.”

“Just duck!” Lilith repeated, voice sharper now, edge trembling with alarm.

Cordelia’s confusion gave way to a flicker of fear as Lilith’s tone shifted—something far darker than the usual calm impatience. “Just do it, Cordelia Allston!!!”

Stunned into motion, Cordelia hesitated, then dropped to the ground as instructed. At that moment, a few strands of crimson hair, the color of Lilith’s arrow-red coat, fluttered down from overhead, landing softly in the clearing like blood-tipped petals.

Cordelia looked down at the strand of crimson hair in her hand, her voice barely above a whisper. “This is… my hair?”

She scanned the aftermath with widening eyes and took a shaky breath.

The two Ogre Kings had been cleaved in half, sliced clean at the waist. Their upper bodies floated, strangely composed, while the lower half lay in ruin across the road.

Their innards, liver and intestines, spilled in grotesque beauty, a visceral crimson cascade that marked them distinctly from their lesser kin.

Cordelia barely managed to murmur, “Is this… a sword technique?”

Lilith gave a single nod. “Vacuum Slash.”

Cordelia froze. She could use Vacuum Slash. Most swordsmen of her caliber could, but what she was witnessing now was beyond comprehension.

By standard definition, Vacuum Slash was a defensive technique. A ten-meter radius’s worth of swirling air, not enough to break bones at a distance. Even within two meters, the effect was moderate but manageable. Close enough that a direct strike would finish the job faster.

But this…?

Cordelia estimated the distance. Over twenty meters. And yet, without hesitation or ceremony, the technique had obliterated two A-rank-level Ogre Kings in a single stroke.

She shook her head in disbelief. “A twenty-meter Vacuum Slash… took down two A-rank monsters in one hit? What kind of joke is this? You’re mocking me, a Hero. That’s not funny…”

Lilith smiled, a bright, triumphant gleam in her eyes. “This… is the warm-up. When he gets serious, this… this isn’t even close to his full strength.”

A few dozen seconds later, under a sky so clear it felt like infinite sunlight, Ryuto Maclaine strode forward, his grin impossibly broad and confident.

“Hey there, you two! Get along all right?” His voice carried warmth and teasing mischief.

Cordelia paused, unable to respond immediately. Her expression flickered through surprise, annoyance, and something like relief.

Ryuto continued, his eyes bright. “You left the village, came back, beat that evil dragon, left again, and entered the Magic Academy. Just when I thought we could finally hang out, you’re off in a training camp again, and yet here you are, showing up in the nick of time!”

Cordelia’s cheeks flushed, and she shot Ryuto a scowl. “Seriously, don’t mess with people like that. You idiot!”

Without hesitation, she landed a fierce right straight on Ryuto’s left cheek, an impact both affectionate and exasperated.

Chapter 4: The Demon and the Priestess

Sashimimasu was a fortress city in every sense of the word. Towering stone walls, ten meters high and a meter thick, encircled its perimeter like the ribs of some slumbering giant. Strategically positioned between the western port of Shintai and the inland trade hub of Gīsa, the city thrived as a critical link in the region’s mercantile lifeline. It was, by all accounts, a bustling relay town born from necessity.

And yet, its geography bordered on suicidal.

To the front lay the Maze Woods, a twisted expanse where direction and sanity were easily lost. At its back stretched the Marsh of the Man-Eaters, an unholy mire riddled with monsters no sane soul dared approach. It was a city built not just beside danger, but within it.

But that was precisely what made Sashimimasu what it was.

The residents knew the risks. They had accepted them long ago. For where danger festered, demand followed. And where demand bloomed, profit was never far behind. Profit that demanded a steep price and earned a matching resolve. That was the genesis of this fortress city.

At this moment, in the heart of the lord’s estate, a war council was underway.

A grand chamber, roughly thirty tatami mats in size, held a long table that stretched like a battlefield in miniature. At its head sat the lord of Sashimimasu, robed in solemn silence. Lining the sides were those who wielded the city’s authority like steel. On the left sat the knight commander, face half-buried behind a bristling jawline of iron-grey beard. Opposite him, the chief instructor observed in silence.

Next to the knight commander stood Cordelia Allston, the Hero herself. Then came their seconds: the vice knight commander, the deputy instructor, followed by officers and instructors of various ranks. Near the lower end of the table sat Lilith, a special-class student, granted presence here only due to her extraordinary performance in the recent battle. A rare exception, but a deserved one.

Tension coiled in the air like a storm waiting to snap.

The knight commander finally broke the silence, voice coarse as worn leather.

“Vice Commander. You were in charge of the eastern fortress. Give us your report.”

The man straightened, his tone low and grim. “Based on the accounts of a few surviving soldiers, the fortress fell almost instantly. It was swallowed whole by the ogre horde.”

A wave of silence rippled through the room. Expressions hardened. The knight commander exhaled through his beard, rubbing his jaw as he prepared to speak again.

“Vice Commander of the southern fortress,” the knight commander barked, his voice carrying the weight of authority. “Your report.”

The man stepped forward, his shoulders tense. “The southern fortress received almost no support from the main knight forces. Most of the defense was left to mercenaries or inexperienced adventurers—”

“I don’t require excuses,” the knight commander interrupted, his voice cold and unyielding. “I asked for a report, just the facts.”

The vice commander swallowed hard and straightened. “Understood. The mercenary group stationed there fled the moment they spotted the Ogre Kings. They bolted like frightened rabbits.”

A humorless chuckle rumbled from the knight commander’s throat. “So you ran as well, without even engaging? The report states there were zero casualties at the southern fortress. I take it that includes you?”

The vice commander hesitated, his mouth opening, then closing without words.

“I thought as much,” the knight commander said, waving it off. “And the northern fortress? There were no survivors. No messengers. We don’t even know what happened.”

At that moment, a new voice joined the conversation. Calm yet undeniably commanding, it belonged to the lord of Sashimimasu. He leaned forward, his long white hair slicked back and his eyes like steel.

“The only position that held was the western fortress, where the Hero, Cordelia Allston, and the instructors from the magic academy were stationed. They alone managed to repel the ogres.”

Cordelia’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t give me too much credit. It wasn’t just me. And it sure as hell wasn’t the instructors who turned the tide.”

Her gaze drifted to the end of the table where Lilith sat quietly, her short, icy-blue hair framing a face unreadable beneath its calm.

Following her line of sight, the chief instructor gave a satisfied nod. “Lilith, from the special elite class. Though she entered through the general exam route, her aptitude was remarkable. She was awarded special status, and now, with this latest battle, she’s proven herself a prodigy.”

The knight commander’s eyes twinkled with interest as he turned to Lilith, stroking his beard. “Her adventurer rank is said to be around C+, but given Cordelia’s report, she might well be operating at a low B-rank level, wouldn’t you say?”

Lilith’s eyes remained flat, but a flicker of irritation passed between her and Cordelia. Neither woman spoke aloud, but their lips moved in silent, razor-edged dialogue.

“Hey, Cordelia Allston?” Lilith mouthed without sound.

“What is it?” Cordelia responded just as quietly, not turning her head.

“Being underestimated like this is honestly offensive.”

Cordelia’s lip twitched in what might have been sympathy or perhaps amusement. “You’re not wrong. But you’ll have to put up with it. For now.”

Their silent exchange, conveyed through subtle lip movements, went unnoticed by the others. Without sound to betray them, the discussion at the war table pressed on.

“In any case,” the lord of Sashimimasu began, his tone grave, “we now face an unprecedented crisis.”

The knight commander gave a solemn nod. “Even standard ogres and their generals are considered dangerous enough, but multiple confirmed sightings of Ogre Kings mean that this is no mere incursion.”

The chief instructor leaned forward, his voice tight with tension. “The situation could be classified not just as a disaster, but as a calamity-level threat. The proportion of upper-class variants among the same species is far beyond normal. Frankly, we may be on the cusp of a great catastrophe.”

Ogres, Ogre Generals, and now Ogre Kings. The implication was unmistakable: the balance of power had shifted. What once would have demanded a kingdom’s army now marched at their gates in overwhelming numbers.

A heavy silence settled across the room, draining the blood from even the most weathered faces. Grim realization weighed the air like lead.

Cordelia’s voice cut through the silence, sounding almost incredulous.

“Seriously, everyone? Is there any point in preparing for things we can’t deal with? Shouldn’t we focus on the things we can handle instead?”

Brows furrowed across the table. The white-haired lord responded, his tone laced with skepticism. “And if the impossible does happen? What then?”

Cordelia didn’t flinch. “Then we’re all dead. Simple as that. If something truly can’t be stopped, then it’s a waste of breath to even worry about it.”

Her bluntness earned her a few drawn-in breaths and visible winces. Clearly, Cordelia had walked closer to death than most in that room.

Then the chief instructor’s gaze slid across the table toward Lilith. “You’ve been rather quiet, Lilith. Do you have an opinion?”

Her answer came with her usual detached, languid rhythm, as if pulled from a distant daydream. “Not particularly.”

A palpable shift passed through the room, one of fragile relief, like tension being carefully exhaled.

Most of those present, it seemed, had chosen to interpret Lilith’s reply through a rather generous filter: “Ah, how modest of her, knowing her place as a mere student in such a lofty setting.” A soft, patronizing warmth filled the air as several nobles cast what they likely believed were indulgent smiles in her direction.

Lilith, of course, wasn’t the type to concern herself with such things. Her words hadn’t been humble nor strategic; they’d simply been honest. She hadn’t had anything to say. That was all.

It was then that the knight commander, stroking his jutting chin beard, turned his attention squarely toward me.

“By the way,” he said, frowning, “what is a mere Villager doing in a meeting like this?”

Yeah. Good question.

Truth be told, I wasn’t entirely sure myself. I’d just been told to show up without context or explanation. So I came.

“You there, peasant,” the knight commander pressed, his voice edged with disdain. “Do you even understand the gravity of where you are?”

He looked to be in his mid-forties. A single deep scar ran across his cheek, a badge of countless battles. His presence was sharp, commanding, exactly the kind of man who’d spent decades on warfields.

“What exactly am I supposed to understand?” I asked coolly.

“This is a strategic war council for defending an entire city,” he said, narrowing his eyes. “Even seated at the far end, someone like you has no place here.”

“Hey, I didn’t ask to be here,” I shrugged. “You told me to come, so I came.”

The old lord at the head of the table, the one with the silver hair swept back like some ancient relic, glared down at me from his throne-like chair.

“To be perfectly blunt,” he said icily, “I find your presence here not just improper, but downright disrespectful. You’re a first-year student at the magic academy, aren’t you? And from what I hear, not even a proper one. A dropout class, wasn’t it?”

That jab drew a few quiet chuckles from around the table, smug and muted laughter slipping from noble lips. The ridicule and mockery rippled through the room, landing squarely on my shoulders.

It didn’t exactly brighten my mood.

The knight commander, clearly enjoying the moment, stroked his beard once more and doubled down.

“You see, Villagers exist for one thing: to till the land, work themselves to the bone like draft horses, and pay their taxes to their betters. Nothing more, nothing less.”

Wow. That’s a new one.

“…”

“What, no rebuttal?” he sneered. “Seems like that submissive peasant spirit’s sunk right down to your bones. A dog like you imagining it has any right to speak in a war council? Don’t make me laugh! It’s a hundred years too soon for that.”

Ah, so that’s how it is. He wasn’t just looking down on me; he was picking a fight. And I was ready to buy in.

I was just about to stand, fists tightening with anticipation, when Cordelia raised a hand, palm open in a calm, commanding gesture. “It’s fine,” she said, her voice steady. “I asked for him to be here.”

Her words stopped me cold. I held still for a breath, then sank back into my chair, easing into the seat like I hadn’t nearly leapt to my feet to throw hands a second ago.

She turned her sharp gaze across the room, sweeping over the gathered officers and lords like a general surveying her troops. “As I’ve already stated,” she continued, “he was one of the key players in defending the western fortress.”

That earned a snort of disbelief. “That’s difficult to believe,” one of the knights muttered.

Cordelia’s reply was swift and cold. “I’m vouching for his strength. Are you saying my word means nothing?”

There was a moment of hesitation, and then another knight, this one trying to sound composed but clearly grasping for an excuse, spoke up with calculated diplomacy. “But, Lady Cordelia, isn’t it true that you’ve earned another title as well? ‘The Berserker,’ was it?”

That did it.

Her face paled for a beat, then flushed crimson as if her blood had decided to boil. A pulsing vein rose on her temple, and her shoulders trembled ever so slightly, like a volcano trying to contain itself. Yeah, she’d been through this before. Goblins. Amanta. Every time something unexplainable happened, they blamed her. Said she lost control. That it was her magic running rampant. Nobody believed what really happened. That it was me.

And now they were dragging her through the mud again.

Then came the lord of Sashimimasu, leaning forward from his ornate chair with a disapproving scowl. “Yes, I’ve heard the tales. Strong, certainly, but prone to exaggeration. Not a Hero of the North, but the Berserker of the North. The one who lets power speak louder than truth.”

Cordelia’s expression shifted into something barely restrained. Her fists clenched beneath the table, knuckles paling, jaw tight as iron. Her entire body trembled with the effort of not exploding.

She was about to blow. I knew that look. And honestly? If she did, I’d be right behind her. Hell, I’d already started leaning forward. And if I moved, Lilith would too, no question about it.

But then, like the crack of thunder, Cordelia slammed her palm down on the table.

“We’re not here to trade insults,” she declared. Her voice wasn’t just loud; it was absolute. “What we should be doing is preparing for a siege.”

The room fell silent.

Huh. So she could keep her cool after all. Maybe I was the kid in this room, not her.

Cordelia didn’t wait for the silence to settle. She pressed on, eyes burning with conviction. “No. Let me correct that. We’re not just preparing to hole up. We’re going to open the gates.”

That drew a wave of confusion. The Knight Commander leaned in, brow furrowed, voice edged with disbelief.

“Open the gates?” the knight commander asked, disbelief echoing in his voice. “Weren’t we supposed to take a defensive stance?”

The meeting room fell silent. This was no ordinary city. It was a fortress built within monster territory. Massive stone walls ringed the town, ten meters high and more than a meter thick. Four heavily guarded gates—east, west, south, and north—connected it to the world outside via the highways.

“Throughout history, sieges only work if reinforcements arrive,” Cordelia said quietly. “That’s the whole point.”

“Indeed,” the chief instructor agreed.

Cordelia continued, steely-eyed: “We’ve already sent envoys to nearby nations and the Adventurer’s Guild several days ago. We’ve heard nothing. No replies. Either our messengers were intercepted by ogres or something else, or we’ve been abandoned.”

Nobody spoke. The grim possibility hung heavy in the air, and every pair of eyes in the room seemed to fall on the silence that followed.

Cordelia slammed both palms onto the table. “If that’s true, our priority changes. It’s no longer about buying time.”

The knight commander leaned forward. His face was ashen. “Then, what do you propose?”

She didn’t hesitate. “We’re not sieging. We’re mounting a defense, an active one. We’ll open all four gates and concentrate our forces at selected locations. That’s the only way to shield civilians from mass slaughter.”

I nodded, feeling some sense of relief. It made sense. The walls alone, while imposing, couldn’t be patched fast enough if breached. Ogres could break through anywhere, through any fragment of wall left undefended. If the gates stayed closed and the walls were damaged, the city would fall piece by piece, with innocent lives caught in the chaos.

Sure, I thought, I could make fifty decoys at once. But no, doing that here and now would draw too much attention. We need strategy, not spectacle.

The knight commander seemed to agree, leaning over the map laid on the table. “So we gather at each gate and reassess our force allocation?”

He paused, weighing the approach before him. Then, finally, the chief instructor, who had stayed silent until now, cleared his throat and spoke.

“We’re only here as part of a field training exercise,” the chief instructor said, his tone smooth but unmistakably evasive. “It was never our intention to be placed on the frontlines of an actual military engagement.”

“What are you saying?” the knight commander asked, his expression twisting into disbelief.

The instructor smiled thinly, his words calm but cutting. “That said, we’re not refusing to fight. Nor can we promise to defend the city outright. Still, we’ve been assigned to hold the eastern gate. Our forces will consist of Lady Cordelia, several instructors, and a few of the scholarship students. As for the bottom-tier class we rescued at the western fortress, they won’t be counted as combatants. Do with them as you see fit.”

So that was it. They were stripping away most of the city’s strength: Cordelia, Lilith, the top students, and the instructors themselves. It wasn’t hard to see what they were planning. The noble heirs had to be protected at all costs. From the way he spoke, it wouldn’t surprise me if they were already plotting to abandon the city and flee the moment things turned sour.

“Chief Instructor?” Cordelia cut in sharply.

“Yes, Student Cordelia? Or should I say, Lady Cordelia, given the setting?”

“Don’t bother,” she snapped. “I’m not going east. I’ll take the north.”

That was it. One sentence, and the bulk of the eastern gate’s firepower had just walked away. The instructor’s face drained of color so fast it was almost impressive.

Panicked, he swept his gaze around the room, eyes pleading as they landed on Lilith. “Student Lilith, perhaps you—?”

“I’ll be taking the south,” she said flatly, not even glancing in his direction.

Now he looked on the verge of tears. Couldn’t say I felt too bad for the guy.

The knight commander spoke up before the silence could thicken. “Very well. The eastern gate will be entrusted to the instructors from Altena Magic Academy. The northern gate will be defended by Lady Cordelia, and we’ll reassign the mercenaries who fled and reform them into a temporary unit.”

“That’s fine,” Cordelia replied. “And what of the west and south?”

“The Knights’ Order will handle those.”

With the city’s defensive plan finally starting to take shape, the white-haired lord leaned back in his chair and murmured toward the ceiling, his voice bitter with resignation. “The report didn’t mention just Ogre Kings. There was talk of an Ogre Emperor. What are we supposed to do against that? There’s no winning this. Like tossing a cup of water on a wildfire… We’re all going to die…”

Until that moment, no one had dared speak the name aloud.

The Ogre Emperor, classified as an Over-A threat, S-rank in terms of danger, was less a monster and more a natural disaster. Some even categorized it as a phantasmal beast, a being of legend rather than something of this world.

And yet, it was here. And it wasn’t alone.

Three of the four key fortresses—east, west, and north—had already fallen like dry leaves in a storm. Even without the Emperor, their odds of victory had been slim from the start. Everyone in that room knew it. They had known it before the meeting even began.

That was why the chief instructor had angled so aggressively for an exit strategy. He’d known full well they were outmatched.

The room fell into a silence too heavy for words, and in that wordless despair, the meeting dissolved. One by one, the noble delegates and military brass trickled out, leaving behind only three: me, Cordelia, and Lilith.

Cordelia stood, ready to take her leave.

“Hey, Cordelia. Hold up,” I called out, still seated.

She turned, puzzled. “Wait? Why? The meeting’s over.”

“Just sit down. And Lilith, go get Koharu.”

“Already done,” Lilith replied coolly, walking to the door and pulling it open. “Koharu, come in.”

A nervous little voice replied, “W-Why was I summoned here?”

Koharu stepped into the room, dressed in her traditional shrine maiden robes, eyes wide like a startled rabbit. She moved hesitantly, but I gestured toward a chair to put her at ease.

“Take a seat. The dead weight’s all gone now.”

Cordelia narrowed her eyes. “Ryuto? What’s going on?”

I shrugged, casting a glance at the now-cleared table strewn with maps. “Now we begin. The real strategy meeting.”

“The real strategy meeting?” Her voice spiked with confusion, verging on incredulity.

Ignoring her outburst, I leaned forward and pointed at the map. “Cordelia takes the north. Lilith covers the south. No arguments there, that’s solid.”

Cordelia gave a small nod, her expression unreadable. “Yeah.”

“And I’ll take the west,” I added plainly.

That seemed to click something in her brain. Her eyes lit up, and she clapped her hands together as the realization set in. “Ah, I get it now. That’s what this is about. Then yeah, that works. Makes sense, actually. You’re the fastest out of all of us, so once you’ve cleaned up your gate, you’ll be free to support the others.”

“Exactly. But the real issue… is the east.” I tapped that section on the map with my finger. “That’s where all the noble kids are, and their precious escorts—the academy instructors. Aside from us, it’s where the highest concentration of ‘regular’ firepower is positioned.”

Cordelia snorted in disbelief, the corners of her mouth twitching. “Calling those instructors ‘regular’ is kind of insulting, don’t you think? I mean, even at their weakest, they’re basically ex-veteran adventurers with magical specialization. Some of them were court mages before they retired. That’s not exactly normal.”

I arched an eyebrow. “Hmm? You okay, Cordelia?”

She blinked, then shook her head slowly as if to dismiss whatever thought had crossed her mind. “No, never mind. You’ve earned the right to say things like that. I know what you’re capable of.”

Then she glanced away and continued, almost sheepishly, “You speak with this strange kind of certainty… grounded in pure effort and earned confidence. Honestly, sorry. What you said caught me so off guard that it felt unreal. Anyway, what were we talking about again?”

Lilith, who had been watching from the sidelines with thinly veiled irritation, finally cut in with her usual deadpan tone. “We were discussing who’s going to defend which gate.”

Meanwhile, Koharu just sat there trembling, clearly overwhelmed by the entire situation. Sharing a room with Cordelia—the living legend, a true hero—seemed enough to throw her into a full nervous breakdown. She was visibly pale, mumbling, “Ah… Ah…” in a voice barely above a whisper.

I looked back at the map. “North, Cordelia. South, Lilith. I’ll take the west. That leaves the east, where, right now, the defenses are paper-thin. Just the instructors and a handful of special-class students.”

A heavy silence fell over the room, weighted with more than just strategy. We all knew what it meant to leave that front exposed.

After a moment of thought, I broke the stillness. “Hey, Cordelia.”

She looked up. “What?”

“If two Ogre Kings and an Ogre Emperor show up at the east gate… what happens?”

Cordelia pressed a hand to her chin and closed her eyes. It didn’t take long; she was already running through the simulations in her head. When her lids lifted, a single bead of sweat traced its way down her temple.

“Ten minutes. No, scratch that. They won’t even put up a fight. The defenders will panic and scatter like ants. The gate will fall in two minutes.”

Exactly what I thought. Cordelia had always been sharp. Her analysis was nearly identical to mine.

“And when that happens?” I asked, watching her closely.

Her reply came in a low, bitter murmur. “Looting. And… rape.”

Bingo.

Ogres were technically classified as magical beasts, but their lineage was tied to demi-humans, creatures like lycanthropes and beastfolk. There were crude seafarers’ tales about sailors using stingray parts for pleasure, and while half of them were bunk, they spoke to a darker truth. Lust was primal, and monsters weren’t always just monsters.

So yes, they’d take valuables. Food, gold, weapons. But they’d take women too. That much went without saying.

“Anyway, let’s not sugarcoat things.” I pointed at the map. “My gut tells me there’s more than one Ogre Emperor out there. And at least one of them is coming—maybe even more—from one of the gates. East, west, north, or south.”

Cordelia’s eyes flew open. “Wait, more than one?! Are you serious?”

Her jaw dropped. She slapped a hand over her mouth, trying to muffle the gasp.

Lilith’s voice sliced through the tension, dry as dust. “Why are you so surprised, Cordelia Allston?”

“W-What do you mean?”

“I mean, that was clearly stated in the report.”

“Well, yes,” Cordelia admitted, “but I assumed it was a mistake. A misidentification. The report only mentioned one. Multiple Emperors? That’s beyond insane. Just one of them qualifies as a full-on disaster-class threat. More than one would mean… This isn’t something a borderland outpost can handle. This is national extinction.”

Lilith, clearly annoyed, pressed further. “And what’s your point?”

“Huh?”

The Mage’s eyes narrowed, her words deliberate. “Ryuto is here. So, what if multiple Ogre Emperors show up? What’s the problem?”

Cordelia froze, her brows knitting together as she tried to untangle the full weight of Lilith’s words. Silence stretched between them, thick and unnerving, until at last she exhaled through her nose and spoke, voice taut with restrained tension.

“No, I understand,” she murmured, lowering her gaze as if trying to see through the table. “You and I couldn’t handle it. But him… Yeah. If it’s Ryuto, I don’t doubt he could. But if an Ogre Emperor is already in play, then what I’m truly afraid of isn’t that.”

Her words hung in the air like a guillotine. I met her eyes, and with a slow nod, finished the thought for her.

“The final stop in ogre evolution,” I said quietly. “The emergence of a Demon God.”

At that, Cordelia’s expression sharpened with chilling clarity. Lilith, seated nearby, simply placed a slender hand beneath her chin, her face unreadable as ever. In contrast, Koharu looked on helplessly, shifting nervously in her seat, her wide eyes darting between us like a trapped animal.

I leaned forward, fingers brushing the edge of the war map. “Why haven’t we launched a counteroffensive yet, Cordelia?”

She hesitated, then offered the obvious. “Because… we were waiting on reinforcements?”

“Exactly.” I let the confirmation land with intentional weight. “Though, as you already know, the odds of help arriving in time are next to zero.”

She frowned. “So?”

“There’s no doubt an Ogre Emperor is present,” I continued, voice calm but edged with iron. “But they’ve yet to attack. Why?”

Cordelia crossed her arms and tilted her head, trying to find the answer buried in the implications. “Because we held the western gate?” she ventured.

“Bingo,” I said with a tight smile. “From their point of view, that’s terrifying. They threw in a force led by an Ogre King, and it got wiped out. Fast.”

Lilith shifted slightly, her cool gaze unwavering. Cordelia, meanwhile, narrowed her eyes.

“Ryuto,” she said slowly, sensing the turn but not the destination, “you’re not answering the question. So what’s your point?”

I stared straight into her eyes. “They’re waiting for reinforcements, too.”

That landed harder than a sword stroke. Cordelia’s face went pale as the realization slammed into her.

“You don’t mean…”

“I do.” I nodded gravely. “Either more Ogre Emperors are inbound, or a Demon God is preparing to emerge. Maybe both.”

Cordelia’s eyes welled with tears, her voice cracking as she shouted, “That… That’s not possible! This… This is a Great Calamity!”

Lilith frowned, her tone soft but grave. “Believe me, Ryuto and I are deeply troubled by this. If it is a Great Calamity, we’d be contacting people like the Dragon King through our own channels already.”

Cordelia buried her face in her hands. “Then how can this be explained? The ogre hordes, the absurd number of Ogre Generals, multiple Ogre Kings, and an Ogre Emperor. And now, possibly a Demon God… None of this makes sense unless it’s a Great Calamity!”

Lilith folded her arms, her voice steady. “True, the ratio of Ogre Generals is abnormal. Multiple Ogre Kings in a single force is unprecedented. An Ogre Emperor, categorized as a Phantasmal Beast, is unheard of. And a Demon God? That’s pure myth.”

Cordelia’s voice quivered. “Then shouldn’t we just assume it is a Great Calamity?”

Ryuto and Lilith exchanged knowing glances. This was the crux.

Ryuto shrugged. “If it were… then ogres themselves would be anomalous. The whole premise would collapse.”

Cordelia looked up, eyebrows knitting. “What do you mean?”

Ryuto leaned forward. “Cordelia, what is the definition of a Great Calamity?”

She thought for a moment before replying, voice quiet, “It means the leader, or a central figure, of a species evolves into an unprecedented entity. Like the Goblin Emperor turning into an Ultimate Goblin, a wholly new form. A Demon God is historically confirmed for ogres, so it’s a valid evolution. And yes, the Calamity forces an entire race to jump one tier up in power.”

Ryuto nodded. Lilith pressed her lips together.

Cordelia frowned. “But even that doesn’t add up. Ogres themselves shouldn’t just keep existing… they’d all evolve into Ogre Generals at minimum.”

Lilith exhaled. “Which is why we believe this is man-made.”

At that, Cordelia froze, horror dawning on her. “You’re saying… humans are creating Demon God-level monsters!?”

Ryuto held up a hand. “It’s possible. But it might not be true.”

Cordelia’s voice flared. “Then what the hell does that mean?!”

Ryuto met her eyes. “We’re running through a few hypotheses. I’ve already got leads, but nothing definitive yet. If I had the answers, I wouldn’t be wrestling with this either, Cordelia.”

Her expression flickered between doubt and acceptance; something in that honest tone seemed to resonate. She took a breath, forcing herself to nod, then snapped her fingers decisively.

“Alright. I’ll take the north. Lilith takes the south. Ryuto takes the west. But what about the east?”

Without hesitation, Ryuto crossed the room and stood beside Koharu Saegusa, who had been hovering awkwardly at the edge of the table since the start. Ryuto placed a gentle hand atop her head.

“This is Koharu Saegusa,” he announced confidently. “She’ll guard the east.”

Cordelia’s gaze sharpened, her instincts kicking in. She studied Koharu with clinically precise interest, her eyes lingering from head to toe as if assessing battlefield readiness.

He held her firm with a confident smile. “Koharu’s got my full guarantee. Not a word of doubt from me.”

Cordelia paused, raising her brow, lips forming a line of mock seriousness. “No, that’s not it… What I want to know is…” She tilted her head to the side, tone more casual. “Why does she have breasts this big?”

Seriously? Ryuto thought, fighting dizziness at the sudden shift in focus.

He forced a grin. “Let’s set the chest aside… In the east, she comes from one of the premier families. And trust me, she’s capable.”

“Huh…” Cordelia’s eyes narrowed as she studied Koharu again, not dropping her scrutinizing gaze.

Ryuto met her stare and replied firmly, “That’s the important part.”

“And you’re sure she’s actually useful in a fight?” Cordelia arched an eyebrow, arms crossed as she shot a skeptical glance toward Ryuto. “You didn’t just get distracted by her chest or something, right?”

The teasing lilt in her voice hadn’t even finished echoing through the room before Lilith slammed her hand against the table with a sharp thud.

“Ryuto said Koharu can handle it,” she snapped, her voice cold as steel. “That means she can.”

Cordelia blinked, surprised by the force behind Lilith’s words. “Whoa, calm down. What’s gotten into you?”

Lilith turned to her, glare icy and unrelenting. “Ryuto never misjudges someone’s combat ability. If he ever did, it would mean this entire world had gone mad—every last one of us, dead. But as long as we’re still breathing, in this reality, that scenario doesn’t exist. It’s not even worth entertaining.”

Cordelia’s mouth fell open slightly as she stared at her, stunned. “Jeez, what’s with you? I was joking. You don’t have to bite my head off.”

Lilith looked away with a muttered, almost bitter tone. “Now isn’t the time for jokes. We’re talking life and death.”

“You’re seriously the hardest person to talk to sometimes.”

The air hung heavy for a beat, until Koharu, who had been fidgeting awkwardly the entire time, finally spoke up, her voice barely more than a whisper.

“Um… Cordelia? Lilith?”

Their responses overlapped, wary and sharp.

“What?”

“What is it?”

Koharu looked between them, her eyes wide and uncertain. “You both just… believe him? Just because Ryuto said I could do it?”

Cordelia gave a small shrug, while Lilith nodded without hesitation.

“Well,” Cordelia said, folding her arms again, “I saw it myself about a year ago. Ryuto’s real strength. The kind of absurd power that shouldn’t exist in nature.”

“That’s crazy… This is all crazy…” Koharu’s voice trembled. “We’re talking about facing an Ogre Emperor… Or worse, a Demon God. There’s no way I can do that. I can’t.”

Her protests were met with silence. Neither Cordelia nor Lilith offered comfort, not even a word of encouragement. Koharu turned toward Ryuto, eyes brimming with fear.

“I mean… forget the Demon God or the Ogre Emperor, okay? Just the Ogre King alone… Do you really believe I can stand against something like that?”

Her voice quivered, caught between panic and disbelief.

Ryuto looked at her, sighed deeply, and finally opened his mouth to respond, his tone steady, almost too calm. “Hey, Koharu.”

She looked up, startled. “What is it?”

“You can do this,” he said plainly, meeting her gaze. “That’s why I’m entrusting the eastern gate to you. Isn’t that enough?”

She flinched, recoiling as though struck. Her voice rose in a sharp, defensive burst. “Why would you say something like that?! I’m… I’m not someone who can handle that!”

Ryuto didn’t waver. “Who told you that you couldn’t?”

Her fists clenched in her lap, trembling. “You wouldn’t understand… You’re Ryuto. You’re strong. You can do anything. But people like me, people who can’t do anything, you don’t know how that feels!”

He exhaled slowly, dragging a hand down his face, tired but patient. “Do you know what my designated job class is?”

“Job class?” she echoed, thrown off by the sudden shift. “I heard it was Villager or something… But that can’t be right, right? You’re probably hiding it. Some rare job, a legendary title, or something along those lines.”

Ryuto gave a bitter chuckle. “Nope. Just a plain Villager. Exactly what it sounds like.”

Koharu stared at him, stunned and speechless.

“You’ve got something real, Koharu. That skill of yours, Divine Descent, is extraordinary. And you’re sitting on it, wasting it, all because you had one failure? That’s it?” His voice grew sharper, cutting through the room like a blade. “You’ve got all this potential, and you’re too busy sulking to use it?”

She looked away, ashamed and silent.

“You’ve got talent, and all you do is wallow. What are you even doing?” His voice hit harder now, more pointed. “Enough. I’m done watching you give up on yourself.”

He stepped closer, staring her down, and pointed directly at her.

“You’re taking the east gate.”

Koharu blinked, wide-eyed. “What?”

“Lilith will guard the south. Cordelia’s got the north. I’ll cover the west. You—” his voice dropped, firm and final, “—you’re in charge of the east.”

“But… I… I can’t…” Her words came in a frightened rush. “I really can’t… I’m not strong enough, I—”

“Yes, you are. That’s why I’m assigning it to you. You have the strength. You just don’t see it yet. But I do. I know you can do this.”

Her shoulders shook as she lowered her gaze, voice small and full of pain. “That day… back then… when it mattered most, I couldn’t do anything. I was supposed to be a Divine Vessel, a living weapon. But when the time came, I froze. I couldn’t use my power. I couldn’t protect anyone.”

Ryuto narrowed his eyes, voice low and probing. “Who were you trying to protect that day?”

Koharu swallowed, her voice trembling as the memories rose unbidden. “Everyone back home… The villagers… The children who used to call me ‘Miko-neesama’ with those bright little smiles… I couldn’t protect any of them.”

Cordelia’s expression softened with sorrow. A shadow passed through her eyes—recognition, perhaps, of her own failures mirrored in Koharu’s. Her mouth opened, as if to offer comfort, but Ryuto raised a hand to stop her. He wasn’t finished.

“Listen, Koharu,” he said, stepping closer, his gaze unwavering. “Whether it’s an eastern country or a western one, the people without power, the ones who can’t fight for themselves, aren’t they all worth protecting?”

She blinked, lips parted. “I…”

“There are people here, too, right? Just like the ones you couldn’t save. Families. Children. Maybe kids just like the ones you lost.” His voice grew firmer, resolute. “You couldn’t protect them back then. So protect these ones now.”

“I… I want to… but…”

He clapped his hands together with a decisive smack, cutting through her doubt like a whip crack. “All right. If you really won’t do it, I won’t force you. I’ll take the west gate. Cordelia and Lilith will handle their zones, and once we’ve secured them, we’ll regroup and try to save whoever’s left in the east.” He paused, letting the implication settle. “But there will be casualties.”

That part was half true. With his mastery of combat spirit arts, Ryuto could conjure fifty clones if he needed to, enough to keep the eastern gate from falling entirely. But it would blow his cover, expose him far more than he was willing to allow. And if the worst happened, even that might not be enough.

Clearing his throat, he changed tack, his eyes narrowing. “Just one thing, though. There’s something that’s been bothering me.”

Koharu looked up, wary. “What is it?”

“Why did you come all the way out here? To this no-name corner of the world, to study at some second-rate academy? You didn’t come here for a vacation. You wanted power, right?” His voice dropped, sharper now. “To prove something. To get back at the bastards who disgraced your name, those pompous frauds from the Yamato Magic Academy who dragged your clan through the mud.”

Her lips trembled, but she said nothing.

“You’re a warrior, aren’t you?”

She finally nodded, quietly, the words barely more than breath. “Yes, I am. I come from a bloodline of fighters, people born and raised for battle.”

Ryuto’s gaze sharpened, voice breaking with urgency. “That’s not what I asked… Don’t tell me about your family or bloodline. I’m asking you. Are you a warrior?”

Koharu’s shoulders tensed. “That’s how I was raised…”

“That’s not the point!” Ryuto leaned in, fist curling at his side. Then, with a controlled motion, he tapped her chest, not hard enough to hurt, but firm enough to knock the breath from her lungs.

The air in the room shifted as a soft thud echoed. Koharu’s body jerked forward, her chest compressed, and she coughed as the wind was knocked from her.

Ryuto stepped in close, his voice low and steady as he tapped the spot over Koharu’s heart. “Right here. I’m asking if there’s anything in there, something you can’t give up.”

Her breath hitched, eyes wide, and for a moment she just stood there, expression unreadable. Then, slowly, she gave a small nod.

“There is,” she whispered.

A smile touched Ryuto’s lips. “Yeah. I thought so.”

“Yes.”

“Then let me ask you something else. I get it… If there’s no hope of winning, retreating is a valid choice. No shame in surviving when the odds are impossible.” His tone sharpened. “But this time, we can win. So I’ll ask you straight: is the Saegusa clan the kind of cowardly bloodline that abandons the weak and flees while there’s still a chance to fight?”

Koharu’s voice cracked. “No… That’s not who we are…”

“Then prove it. Show them, show all the people who mocked you and dragged your name through the mud. This is your chance. You want revenge? You want respect? Then take it. Here. Now.”

Tears welled in her eyes, but she didn’t look away.

“Still scared?” Ryuto asked softly, then reached out and placed a warm hand on her head. “That’s fine. Do it scared. Just don’t back down.”

Koharu stood still as his fingers ruffled her hair. Her voice trembled, but she didn’t protest.

“I’ll come as fast as I can. Hold the line till I get there,” he added, his smile turning into something fierce and reassuring. “I’m counting on you, Koharu.”

As his hand tousled her hair with exaggerated affection, a shadow fell across them. A sweet voice chimed in, bright as spring, but there was an undercurrent, sharp as a blade.

“Ryuto?”

He glanced back. “Hmm?”

Lilith stood, her smile wide and bright. Her eyes, however, were flat and unreadable, like painted glass. “I believe something’s missing from my head as well.”

Ryuto blinked. “Wait, what?”

And suddenly, he wasn’t entirely sure whether her grin was teasing or a threat in disguise. Probably both.

To say the mood shifted would be an understatement.

Damn, she’s terrifying. It wasn’t just the stare. It was that smile. Wide, sweet, and absolutely devoid of warmth. The kind of smile that screamed “I’m going to break your bones and enjoy it.” But it was her cold, calculating eyes that really did it. Nothing in them even remotely resembled mercy.

“I get it, I get it. Relax,” I muttered, throwing my hands up like I was surrendering to a highway robber.

Without wasting another second, I moved my palm from Koharu’s head and set it gently on Lilith’s instead. Like a switch flipped, her face softened. Her entire body, tense and poised like a spring, melted under my touch. That eerie, mask-like smile transformed into something calm, even serene.

Just as I started to exhale in relief, I felt a low, simmering, sulky pressure. It was Cordelia. She stood there with her arms crossed, her cheeks puffed out, and her lips pursed in the world’s most obvious display of “I’m not jealous, but I totally am.” Her heel tapped against the stone floor in a rapid, annoyed rhythm.

“Seriously?” I gave her a look. “You too?”

Still, she didn’t answer. Just kept glaring at me with those narrowed eyes that said, “Well, are you going to do it or not?”

I sighed and reached out with my free hand—left, this time—and gave her head a gentle pat. Smooth, balanced. Right hand for Lilith, left for Cordelia. The situation was officially defused.

Or so I thought.

Cordelia’s voice turned sickeningly sweet. “Hey, Ryuto?”

My stomach tightened. “Yeah?” I asked, cautiously. Already regretting this.

Her smile grew wider—too wide. “That thing you just did. You definitely touched Koharu’s chest, didn’t you?”

“What?!” I jerked back as if she’d slapped me. “Hold on! What are you talking about?!”

“You know.” She flexed her fingers, popping each knuckle with deliberate menace. “That whole ‘what does your heart say’ routine. You made a fist and pressed it right into her chest. Real theatrical. But you just happened to go for her boob, didn’t you?”

“No!” I barked, half-defensive, half-panicked. “It was symbolic! I was aiming for her heart! Like, the metaphorical one!”

Cordelia tilted her head, grinning like a shark. “You groped her.”

“For the last time, I was going for dramatic emphasis!”

“And I’m going for dramatic justice.”

Her fists clenched at her sides as she took a step forward, murder twinkling in her eyes. Behind her, Lilith nodded slowly and deliberately, as if co-signing the execution order.

“Oh, come on! You’re seriously siding with her on this?”

Neither of them answered. Cordelia’s smile widened. Lilith’s nodding got even more unnerving.

“Great. Fantastic. Two of the most dangerous women in this entire city, and they’re both about to kill me over a misunderstanding!”

“NO MORE TALKING!” Cordelia roared, her fist already cocked.

I barely had time to flinch before her left hand straight smashed into my cheek with all the force of a collapsing star.

And just like that, our brilliant, inspiring, thoroughly adult strategy meeting came to its absurdly violent conclusion.

※※※

The northern gate of the fortress city of Sashimimasu loomed tall and unyielding. Inside the walls, an oval-shaped formation had been drawn. About a hundred trained combatants stood at the ready, backed by roughly four hundred militiamen waiting just behind them.

At the head of it all stood Cordelia Allston. Her crimson cape fluttered faintly in the morning wind as she gazed out at the sea of ogres, more than five hundred of them crowding the plains beyond the gate. A sigh slipped from her lips.

“Pacing myself and conserving stamina… It’s just not my style.”

A man with snow-white hair standing beside her tilted his head, curiosity creasing his weathered face. He was a seasoned adventurer, clearly no stranger to battle.

“Not your style, you say?”

Cordelia turned slightly toward him, eyes narrowing as she studied his features. Recognition flickered across her face.

“I thought I recognized you. You’re Derrick, right? Upper-tier C-rank, a veteran adventurer. If I had to guess, you’re probably the most capable one here. Aside from me, of course.”

Derrick offered a short bow, his voice respectful but laced with quiet pride. “The honor is mine, Lady Cordelia. I’ve had the pleasure of joining you on six high-difficulty hunts.”

“Six, huh?” she murmured with a half-smile. “No wonder your name stuck.”

Lady.

For some reason, everyone who’d fought alongside Cordelia on the battlefield had adopted that title. Not “ma’am,” not “Commander,” and certainly not “Cordelia.” The age gap might’ve played a part, or maybe it was just her personality, but once the blades were drawn and the spells started flying, “Lady” was the only form of address that ever seemed to stick.

Cordelia shook her head lightly, brushing that thought aside as she spoke again, her tone light but resolute.

“I’m naming you my second-in-command. And just so we’re clear, I’m going all out from the start. I’ll leave the cleanup to you.”

Derrick furrowed his brow. “All-out, as in… a full release of your magic surge?”

She nodded. “That’s right. I’ve got eyes on an Ogre King out there. No way I’m handling that thing sober.”

“I understand, but won’t a full surge put considerable strain on your mind and body? Isn’t there a strict time limit to how long you can maintain it?”

Cordelia simply smiled. Not a forced, formal grin, but a bright, almost childlike one. “You don’t need to worry about that. I’ll be fine.”

“Fine?” Derrick echoed uncertainly.

“Because he’s here,” she said, her voice softening with something close to nostalgia. “It’s been so long since I’ve felt like this. Lately, I’ve always been the one responsible. The one carrying everyone’s lives on her back. There’s never been room to fight without overthinking every move. But now I can actually let go.”

Derrick tilted his head. “Lady Cordelia?”

Cordelia shrugged. “You wouldn’t get it. He asked me to handle this front. Just that, nothing more. He knows me. Knows exactly what I’ll do. He trusted me with it anyway. That means he’s already factored in the risks, the outcomes, all of it.”

“I’m not sure I follow…”

“That’s fine. All you need to understand is that if I mess up, he’ll cover it. Not me, a half-rate knockoff, but the real deal. A genius. The kind of monster who actually deserves the title of strongest. And when he steps in, it’ll be with that annoyingly flawless, ridiculously gallant style of his.”

Derrick studied her for a long moment. “I don’t know who you’re talking about. But right now, looking at you facing down an army of ogres, you have the expression of a child who’s just been handed a brand-new toy.”

“It really has been a while,” Cordelia admitted with a wry laugh.

“In all the times I’ve fought beside you, I’ve never seen this side of you. Usually, your face is all tension, but now you’re actually smiling.”

Cordelia exhaled slowly, then rolled her shoulders. “Monsters tough enough to take my full power are rare. And this time, I don’t have to worry about protecting anyone. No responsibility. No lives in my hands. Just me, the enemy, and a whole lot of stress to blow off. Honestly? I’m kind of excited.”

Derrick gave a quiet, knowing chuckle, the kind that carried both humility and pride. “I don’t know who this person is, but it’s obvious that you trust them deeply.”

Cordelia didn’t hesitate. Her silver eyes met his without a flicker of doubt. “I do.”

His expression softened, touched by her certainty. He inclined his head in a gesture of sincere respect. “Forgive me, but I still see you as a child. Just sixteen, a young girl barely out of childhood. And to be honest, I don’t understand half the things you say.”

Cordelia smiled faintly, acknowledging the truth of his words without argument. “Well, that’s only natural.”

“But,” Derrick continued, his tone shifting—stronger now, reverent, “I’ve stood beside you on the battlefield more than once. And I know this much: when you fight, you’re a warrior through and through. Not just powerful. Experienced. Hardened by fire. In that moment, there’s no one I’d trust more.”

Her gaze lingered on his, searching, then softened further. “So?”

“If someone like you says this person can be trusted, then I have no reason to doubt it. I’ll put my faith where yours lies.”

Cordelia exhaled slowly, her chest rising as tension gave way to determination. “Thank you, Derrick.”

“I’ll handle the rear guard,” he said firmly, already turning toward his position. “I’ve got a team of veteran adventurers ready. You go. Do what only you can. Let loose.”

A grin spread across her face. Not the polite smile of a noble, but the raw, hungry expression of a warrior aching for battle. “Got it.”

With practiced ease, she drew her silver longsword from the scabbard at her side. The steel caught the morning light, gleaming like ice. Her gaze swept across the battlefield, calculating.

“One Ogre King. About ten Ogre Generals. The rest are just the usual fodder—disorganized, sloppy. And no sign of an Ogre Emperor.”

Her grin widened into something feral. She licked her lips, her voice light but thrumming with anticipation. “This feels a bit underwhelming for the Hero of the North, doesn’t it? If they keep underestimating me like this, I’ll wipe them out before they even know what hit them.”

She stepped forward, sword raised, eyes alight with excitement. Her body moved with fluid grace, making it clear she wasn’t holding back.

Then she shouted, voice ringing clear over the wind, proud and unflinching:

“Cordelia Allston, Hero of the North! I come forth! Stand and face me!”

※※※

“Well then,” Lilith muttered wearily as she stepped just outside the southern gate, her gaze sweeping over the dusty plains ahead. The tension in the air was palpable, but she moved with the same disinterest she might show while grocery shopping.

At her side, the knight lieutenant, her superior for the duration of this defense, cleared his throat and asked with formal curiosity, “Student Representative Lilith?”

Lilith paused before replying with a flat tone, “What?”

The lieutenant continued, “I’ve heard you’re rather capable in combat.”

With a tired shrug, Lilith responded, “Among infants? Sure, I’m practically a god. But throw me into a crowd of real warriors, and I’m no better than one of the infants.”

The lieutenant frowned, clearly taken aback by her self-effacing remark. Behind them, over three hundred knights and adventurers stood ready, their gazes flicking toward Lilith with a mixture of curiosity and uncertainty. Yet she showed no trace of nervousness. Her demeanor remained cool and detached.

Finally, the lieutenant admitted, “I’m not fully following your logic.”

Lilith shrugged again and said softly, “If you don’t get it, that’s fine.”

After a brief pause, the lieutenant pressed on, his tone more businesslike. “Very well. How do you assess our situation?”

Lilith narrowed her eyes, her voice steady, “The enemy at the southern gate numbers around six hundred. That includes one Ogre King and just over thirty Ogre Generals.”

The lieutenant’s eyes widened in surprise. He turned to look at the battlefield before them. “That’s one and a half times more than what my danger-sensing skills detected. And you’re sure there’s an Ogre King out there?”

Lilith stood firm. “Positive. I used mana detection, maxed-out skill level. At this distance and direction, my readings are extremely accurate.”

He frowned, clearly concerned. “Mana detection? That’s an advanced spell only high-level mages can perform at B-rank adventurers or above. People on my level or higher, right, Student Lilith?”

Lilith tilted her head slightly, her voice calm but firm. “What’s your point?”

The lieutenant’s tone turned stern, his patience thinning. “This isn’t the time for idle joking.”

Lilith didn’t acknowledge him. Instead, she shifted her gaze forward, down the narrow road leading away from the southern gate.

“According to the academy’s records,” the man continued, “your ability is ranked around C, isn’t it? I appreciate the effort to lighten the mood, though.”

Without answering, Lilith pointed calmly toward the long stretch of road ahead. “It’s a single path. Seven kilometers straight.”

Roughly seven hundred meters away, a massive force of ogres had already gathered, pressing against the edges of vision. And standing among them, towering and unmistakable, was a figure that chilled the blood.

The Ogre King.

The color drained from the lieutenant’s face as he caught sight of the creature. “That’s… the Ogre King? It’s really there…”

The beast lumbered forward like a bloated sumo wrestler, grotesquely overfed and strong. He stood well over three and a half meters tall, easily pushing past five hundred kilograms, adorned in rare gear scavenged from fallen adventurers. Surrounded by throngs of smaller ogres, he marched slowly down the main road as if it were his personal parade route.

“Lilith?” the lieutenant asked again, voice tighter now.

She responded flatly, without turning. “What?”

His brow furrowed. “How do we deal with an ogre army with an Ogre King at its head?”

Her answer was as blunt as a blade. “We run. There’s no winning this.”

He exhaled sharply. “We can’t. We’re knights. We’ve got helpless civilians behind us.”

At that, Lilith finally turned to look at him. There was no sarcasm or defiance in her expression, only cold respect. “Chivalry.”

The lieutenant gave a rueful smile. “Or maybe just stubbornness dressed up as virtue. Still, staying here means getting wiped out. You’re still a student, Lilith. No one will fault you for retreating. Honestly? I’d recommend it.”

Lilith scanned the soldiers around her. The moment the Ogre King had come into view, mercenaries from the adventurer’s guild had begun to peel away from the front lines. Even some of the knights, those lacking conviction, had started removing their heavy armor, preparing to run.

“And yet, aside from you,” she said coolly, “it looks like most of the knights have already decided to flee.”

The southern gate of the fortress city of Sashimimasu stood before the assembled force. Within the inner walls, over one hundred trained combatants formed a tight oval defensive stance, and behind them, about four hundred militia awaited. In their midst, Lilith raised her staff and turned to address the deputy commander of the knights, who stood beside her, concern etched into his face.

“Even if you retreat,” Lilith stated calmly, “I’m staying here. You should flee with the others.” Her voice was steady, though a faint tremor ran through it.

The deputy commander’s expression tightened, his face taut and voice rigid. He managed a forced smile despite the approaching mass of ogres.

“I’ve changed my mind,” Lilith suddenly said.

The deputy commander tilted his head, surprise flickering in his eyes. “Changed your mind? About what?”

Lilith drew a slow breath. “I have many secret techniques. Some draw attention, others don’t. My patron prefers discretion, so I planned the least noticeable approach, even if it means casualties. But… I’ve changed my mind.”

Resolutely, she drew a long staff from beneath her pure white robe and raised her right hand high. “I’ll sweep away the entire path in a straight line.”

Closing her eyes, she focused deeply, channeling her power. Then her voice rang out. “Golden Roar: Dragus Genocide.”

A blinding, violently brilliant flash erupted. Every knight and guild adventurer instinctively shielded their eyes with raised hands as the explosive light faded completely. Lilith lowered her staff, nodded firmly, and reported, “No survivors among the ogre horde. No Ogre Emperors were present in the south.”

Wiping his eyes, the deputy commander scanned the battlefield, speechless. Where once stood a massive wave of ogres was now left with only a thin haze of smoke. “The… The ogres… The Ogre Generals… and… the Ogre King… What happened to them?”

Lilith answered softly, a strange calm in her tone, “This technique… I inherited it from my father.”

The deputy blinked, at a loss for words.

“You think a mere Ogre King could withstand a single blow from my ultimate technique?” Lilith’s voice rang out, smooth and scathing, each syllable laced with disdain. “Don’t make me laugh. If you’re going to joke, at least pace yourself between lies.”

The enemy commander, an aging war mage by the look of him, staggered back, his bloodied staff quivering in his hand. His lips parted as he stared at her, eyes wide with disbelief.

“Student Lilith? Wh-Who… What are you…?”

Lilith tilted her head, almost pitying, as if trying to decide whether he was amusing or just pathetic. “I am Lilith,” she said flatly. “No surname.”

“No surname…?” the man echoed, his confusion deepening.

Her crimson eyes gleamed with something fierce and inevitable. She smiled not kindly. “Not yet,” she murmured. “But give it a few years. I’ll go by Lilith Maclaine.”

She stepped forward through the steam and ruin of the battlefield, her hair catching the golden light like a banner of fire.

“Yes,” she whispered. “The woman destined to marry the strongest man on Earth. And I don’t have time to be wasting on overgrown beasts like ogres.”

※※※

I let out a breath as I completed my wide-range scan of the area. The dust had settled in the north and south. It looked like those fronts were done for now.

“North and south are clear,” I muttered, nodding to myself.

Then, I checked my mana and nearly choked.

Seriously? She used that much?

Lilith could tap into my mana thanks to our contract, but she treated it like her own personal battery. She’d gone full throttle, no hesitation. Five percent of my total magic pool gone, just like that.

She better not plan on spamming that move again. It was one thing to borrow a little; it was another to throw around catastrophic death spells like candy.

Golden Roar: Dragus Genocide.

An S-rank annihilation spell with obscene power… and an equally obscene cost. It sucked the caster dry, leaving nothing but smoke and a headache. Normally, it was the kind of spell you used when your back was to the wall and there were no other options.

But for Lilith? It might as well be her go-to greeting.

Which, honestly, made her just as broken as the spell itself.

Still, I had my own hands full with the western front. Or at least, I was supposed to, until a gruff voice called out.

“Hey, you. Villager.”

I turned to find the knight commander glaring at me from atop his armored steed. He stroked his thick, iron-gray beard, the rings on his fingers flashing in the sunlight, and spoke with a voice like grinding stone.

“What’s your read on the battlefield?” he demanded, his tone full of condescension, like he couldn’t quite believe someone dressed like me had any insight worth hearing.

We were stationed just outside the west gate of the city, a stretch of no-man’s-land that bled straight into monster territory. Not exactly an ideal picnic ground. Technically, it was part of the road network connecting the capital to the outer provinces, so the visibility was decent. You could see a long way down the highway in either direction, which made it all the more unsettling.

“The state of the battlefield?” I echoed, arching an eyebrow.

The knight commander gave a theatrical shrug, as if I’d just asked him something profoundly beneath his station. “Understand this,” he said, voice heavy with superiority, “I’ve been instructed by Lady Cordelia herself to keep you nearby on the battlefield. Special orders. Otherwise, someone of your station wouldn’t even be allowed to speak to someone like me.”

He sniffed disdainfully, fingers curling around the hilt of his sword like he was bracing for contamination.

“Well,” I drawled, “sorry for the inconvenience.”

His head snapped toward me. “You impudent—”

“Yes?” I asked, innocently.

He leaned down from his horse, eyes narrowed. “Do you even comprehend what it means for a mere Villager to be granted proximity to the commander of the knights?”

Ah. So that’s the flavor.

I sighed internally. One of those guys. Great.

“Anyway,” I said, brushing off his indignation, “you asked about the battlefield, right?”

I’d already completed my recon. The scan had revealed the full picture.

One Ogre Emperor. Twelve Ogre Kings. Over a hundred Ogre Generals. Not a single common Ogre among them. They were sending elites only. Which meant this front wasn’t a decoy. It was the real target.

The others hadn’t noticed yet. The knights were still busy patrolling, as if this were routine. But if my estimates were right, we’d be making eye contact with the enemy in five, maybe six minutes.

The commander squinted at me, trying to decide whether I was ignoring him or genuinely too dense to understand courtly protocol. “Well?” he demanded again. “Your analysis?”

I cracked a smile. “Seems manageable to me.”

He reeled, face contorting in disbelief. “Manageable? You think this is manageable?”

That was my cue. I dropped the polite tone like a mask and shifted gears.

“Tell me, Commander,” I said, tone suddenly casual. “Do you know why Cordelia’s called the Berserker?”

His jaw clenched. “Watch your tone.”

“Sure, sure,” I said with a lazy wave. “But do you know the reason?”

“I’ve heard that Lady Cordelia was originally just a village girl,” the knight commander said, his voice softening with something like reverence—or was it disbelief? “When she was twelve, before she’d even begun to mature as a Hero, she was attacked by a horde of goblins numbering over a thousand.”

“That’s not the whole story, though, is it?” I countered, watching him closely.

“No. At fifteen, she slew an evil dragon, one of the legendary beasts classified as a Calamity,” he replied, his tone now tinged with awe. “That’s what I’ve been told.”

“Exactly. And every one of those monsters should’ve been far beyond anything she could’ve handled at the time.”

He nodded slowly, brows furrowing. “I’ve always thought so too. That’s why people say it was due to a magical rampage. That she lost control of her mana, and it granted her the strength to survive… And that’s why she later subjected herself to brutal training to master that chaos. To learn control over a force that would break most people.”

I shook my head once, then again, more firmly.

“No. Cordelia’s never had a magical rampage. Not even once.” I stared out over the plains, jaw set. “No matter what people say, she’s always been ice-cold in a crisis. Calm, calculated. That’s just who she is.”

“Then how?” The commander blinked, genuinely confused now. “How did Lady Cordelia defeat foes no one should have been able to face?”

That was when it started. The first scream ripped through the ranks. Then another. Then chaos.

Some fled, bolting without a word. Others crumpled to the ground where they stood, eyes wide, weapons falling from trembling fingers.

The knight order split into two: the deserters and the paralyzed. Most didn’t even try to fight their instincts.

And the commander? He chose the latter.

His knees buckled beneath him as he dropped to the ground, arms shielding his head.

“N-NOOO!”

“G-Get it away!”

“It’s here! IT’S HERE!”

“Someone help… HELP MEEE!”

About ninety percent of them chose flight. Abandoning swords, shields, and even their armor, they scattered like roaches under a torch, vanishing into the wilds with terrified cries.

I stood alone, watching the panic with a grimace.

“Well. That’s one way to clear a battlefield,” I muttered.

And then I saw it. Roughly three kilometers ahead, a monstrous silhouette broke through the heat shimmer on the horizon.

My stomach gave a slow, reluctant twist. Its body was easily over ten meters tall. Each step shook the earth like a meteor strike. The damn thing probably weighed in at several dozen tons.

ZUUUN.

A low, tectonic rumble rolled across the field, shaking dust from my boots.

I let out a bitter laugh.

“Yeah. That’s not a monster. That’s a walking natural disaster.”

ZUUUUUUN.

The sound hit like a physical force. The kind of chest-caving bass you’d feel at a stadium concert, right in front of a wall of subwoofers cranked past sane limits. Not just loud. Violent. It dug into you, reverberating through your lungs, grinding into your guts with every pulse.

That was the sound of the Ogre Emperor’s footsteps.

A seismic, guttural thrum that rolled across the ground and echoed straight through the pit of my stomach.

I didn’t blame the knights for running. Honestly, I couldn’t.

The thing looked like something out of a kaiju movie, and its classification wasn’t any less terrifying. S-rank difficulty. An entity designated as a natural disaster all on its own.

No one here had the firepower to even attempt a proper confrontation.

Life’s not something you should throw away just to look brave. There’s a reason people say: of all the thirty-six stratagems, fleeing is best. Can’t disagree with that.

And this “kaiju”? It wasn’t alone.

The Ogre Emperor was flanked by twelve Ogre Kings and over a hundred Ogre Generals. A literal army of high-level monsters, marching in perfect sync behind a walking apocalypse.

“Commander,” I said lightly, turning to the knight still frozen on the ground like a man awaiting execution.

He looked up, eyes bloodshot and wild. “W-What is it, Villager? Aren’t you going to run? Even trained knights fled without a second thought. This… This isn’t a battle. It’s suicide!”

I ignored the hysteria in his voice and stepped forward, striding directly toward the oncoming titan.

“You said Cordelia defeated monsters she had no business beating,” I said, keeping my tone calm, conversational. “The kind of things that shouldn’t even be possible to take down solo. That’s why people assumed it had to be mana rampage, right?”

“Yes, that’s what the records say,” he replied, still on the ground, staring at me like I’d lost my mind.

“But she’s never once lost control. Not ever.”

“Then… how?”

“You want to know why?”

“What are you getting at?” he snapped, half in fear, half in frustration.

I turned to glance back over my shoulder, a faint grin tugging at my mouth. “Have you ever read the full report on Cordelia?”

The knight commander tilted his head, confused.

Good, I thought. This part always takes people a second to catch up.

“Oh, I’ve read the reports,” he said stiffly, as if reciting protocol could shield him from the storm bearing down on us. “This entire campaign is part of Lady Cordelia’s growth program. That much is obvious, isn’t it?”

I gave a quiet hum of acknowledgement. “Then you remember the part about her first battle? How she supposedly fought off a goblin horde to protect a village boy and then lost control of her mana when he died?”

He nodded. “It’s in the official records. And later, when she fought the Evil Dragon Amanta, it says she experienced another rampage, triggered by the trauma of remembering that same boy’s death.”

“Right,” I muttered, my tone flat. “Makes sense now.”

He squinted at me. “What are you implying?”

“She’s an idiot,” I said, smiling bitterly. “Cordelia probably told the truth, exactly how it happened. That the village boy handled everything. But someone up top didn’t like that version. They twisted it, polished it, and handed out a prettier lie. Wrote her as the uncontrollable prodigy. Brushed the rest under the rug.”

My gaze dropped to the trembling earth beneath us, then rose to meet his again.

“Tell me, Commander. Cordelia never lost control. Not even once. And yet, she defeated monsters way above her level. Doesn’t that sound off to you?”

He hesitated. “What are you saying?”

“The village boy,” I said quietly, each word steady as a drawn blade, “never died.”

I turned away from him, lifting one hand in a lazy, parting wave as I began to walk toward the field.

“Goblins. Amanta. Every last one. I took care of them.”

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

The air split around me in a thunderous crack as I broke the sound barrier. Wind tore past, screaming in my ears. The monster loomed in the distance, two kilometers out, but the ground between us vanished in seconds.

I wasn’t done talking. But introductions came first.

※※※

In the Adventurer’s Guild, monster difficulty ran from H-rank to A-rank.

H-ranks were trash mobs: goblins, slimes, things a well-armed farmer could put down solo. E-ranks marked the start of proper adventuring, the kind of beasts rookies cut their teeth on. By C-rank, you were fighting monsters like Ogre Generals, who were tougher, smarter, and stronger. Veterans operated at that level.

But A-rank?

That was where the world broke. A-rank monsters weren’t beasts; they were natural disasters. One of them could wipe out a regional knight order solo.

Ogre Kings belonged there. So did Amanta, the so-called evil dragon, one of the lowest among the pantheon of fallen gods. He tried to lay a hand on Cordelia last year.

Tried… and got erased.

And now? I was heading toward something even worse. But that was okay. It was about time the world remembered why my name never appeared in the reports.

Amanta had earned his classification as a Calamity not just for her destructive power, but because she was deified in the mortal world—immortal, in effect. Kill her once, and she’d just come back. Again and again. That alone made her a nightmare.

Anything above that fell into a different category altogether: S-rank.

At that level, we weren’t talking about tactical weapons anymore. We were talking about strategic threats. Beings whose power broke the scale, who could shape, end, or redefine the fate of nations.

For a human, it meant something terrifying: the kind of personal power that surpassed borders. Someone not bound by nations but capable of negotiating with them. A single individual with enough might to sit across from a government and speak as an equal.

For a monster, it meant something worse: a force capable of destroying nations entirely.

To put it simply, if tactical-class meant the strongest player on the board, then strategic-class flipped the whole table. Imagine playing shogi against a grandmaster. That was tactical. Now imagine your opponent moving three pieces for every one of yours or declaring the game over just because they felt like it. That was strategic.

That was what it meant to be S-rank.

And me, Ryuto Maclaine?

Yeah, I belonged there.

If the Adventurer’s Guild ever tried to formalize things, my power would clock in well beyond the threshold. I didn’t just match S-rank standards. I defined them.

So did the creature now looming in front of me.

The Ogre Emperor.

We were the same class of monster, both of us walking disasters in our own right.

“Come on, then,” I muttered, rolling my shoulders as I stared it down. “Let’s see what you’ve got, beast.”

“UOOOHHH!”

Its roar shattered the air like a pressure wave. It tore through the landscape, vibrating through bone and blood, echoing through my chest like a war drum in hell.

The sound was noise weaponized.

A fusion of intimidation skill and confusion magic, designed to overwhelm, to dominate. Any lesser creature within range would’ve collapsed instantly. Hell, even some mid-level monsters would’ve fainted on the spot.

It was more than a battle cry. It was the roar of an emperor.

I didn’t flinch.

“You think a scare tactic like that’ll work on me?” I scoffed. “You’re still just a beast, no matter how fancy your title.”

Step by step, I moved forward.

The distance closed—ten meters now. Close enough to feel the heat radiating off its massive frame. Close enough to smell blood and smoke clinging to its breath.

That was when it moved. The Ogre Emperor crouched low, muscles tensing, and then launched skyward in a thunderous leap.

A monstrous fist, so massive it could only be described as belonging to a kaiju, came crashing down from above.

Its upper arm was as thick as an ancient tree trunk. Three meters in diameter, easy. And the fist itself? A square meter of raw destruction, less a weapon and more like a runaway construction crane gone haywire. Honestly, this wasn’t a fantasy battle anymore. It was a damn monster movie.

I stared up at the incoming blow, eyes sharp, mind calm. It was sluggish, just as I’d suspected. Powerful, sure, but slow.

Exploiting my lighter frame, I kicked off the ground and shot fifteen meters to the left in a single bound. The instant I moved, a deafening explosion erupted to my right, followed a heartbeat later by a shower of dirt and debris.

“Damn. That power’s no joke.” The words slipped from my mouth in a breathless murmur as I turned to face the impact zone.

Where I’d been standing moments ago, a crater had bloomed five meters across, like the earth itself had caved in. The Ogre Emperor, clearly pleased with the devastation he’d wrought, gave a satisfied nod and flashed a toothy grin.

Then, with a deliberate arrogance, as if putting his overwhelming strength on full display, he began striding toward me again. I didn’t have long before he was back within striking distance.

And strike he did.

Raising his left arm high, the Ogre Emperor brought it down in a thunderous arc. Another explosion rocked the battlefield, but this time… the crater never formed.

Because I caught his fist.

With my right hand, I raised my palm skyward and stopped that titanic blow cold.

“Hey, Emperor. Mind if I cut in for a sec?” I asked, voice low and steady, eyes locked with his in quiet defiance.

Realistically, the impact should’ve driven me straight through the ground like a tent peg. But thanks to a little trick with barrier magic, I’d spread the force of the blow across a twenty-meter radius. A nice little hack for not getting flattened.

That was the problem with S-rank battles. By the time you hit this level, the environment itself couldn’t keep up with the damage output. It was a logistical nightmare.

“Erkkk?” he gurgled in confusion, his massive arm trembling in my grip.

The Ogre Emperor stared at me, slack-jawed and dumbfounded, his thick brow furrowed in blank confusion.

Not that I blamed him.

He’d just watched his most powerful strike, an attack that should’ve obliterated anything in its path, get stopped dead by something barely the size of a peanut. Of course, his brain was fried. If he’d been capable of articulate thought, it probably would’ve just been a wall of question marks.

“Excalibur, the God-Slaying Relic,” I murmured.

As the words left my lips, one of my sacred swords, slumbering in the folds between dimensions, manifested in a ripple of light and steel. With a flick of my wrist, the blade snapped into my grip.

I sprang upward in a fluid motion, landing lightly atop his massive fist. From there, I ran—boots pounding against the rugged terrain of his arm as I sprinted up toward his shoulder. The uneven ridges of muscle and sinew gave me plenty of footing; honestly, it was easier than scaling a cliff face.

“You and I, we’re both S-Rank. Technically, anyway,” I said as I ascended, my voice carrying with deliberate calm. “But that’s just a classification. A clumsy one.”

I reached his shoulder and pivoted, raising my greatsword high above my head. The blade was nearly a meter and a half long, easily capable of cleaving through steel, let alone flesh.

“Think about it. To a mite, there’s no real difference between a human and an elephant. Both are just massive, incomprehensible forces. So the mite lumps us into the same category.”

The sword came down in a clean arc.

“Which means there’s still a pecking order within S-Rank.”

I drove the blade into the side of his neck and leapt. As I fell, the sword tore through him like a hot knife through butter, slicing clean from the base of his jaw to his opposite flank in a brutal diagonal slash. Flesh parted. Bone gave way. Blood erupted behind me in a crimson geyser as gravity pulled me toward the ground.

“You? You just barely scraped past A-rank,” I said, landing with a sharp thud as my boots met solid earth. “Honestly, Cordelia and Lilith together could’ve handled you just fine.”

Even before the last syllable left my mouth, the Ogre Emperor collapsed with a sound like a building crumbling, his body crashing into the ground as a fountain of blood sprayed into the sky, accompanied by a deafening shockwave of sound.

From the direction of the gate, I heard the distinct thump of someone hitting the ground. The knight commander, who’d been watching the fight unfold, had gone completely limp, legs giving out as he crumpled into a crouch.

“O-O-Ogre… Ogre…” he stammered, eyes wide as saucers. “The Ogre Emperor… Taken down… In one strike?”

I couldn’t really blame him for the reaction.

The real shock wasn’t that I’d defeated the Ogre Emperor. No, that was implausible enough, but the truly impossible part, the thing that left the knight commander stammering as if his brain had short-circuited, was what didn’t happen afterward.

“Why… isn’t he healing?” he muttered, more to himself than anyone else, his voice paper-thin with disbelief.

And to be fair, it was a damn good question.

The Ogre Emperor was a monster, infamous for his regeneration and demonic in every sense of the word. You could slice off one arm, or even both, and he’d regrow them within sixty seconds, like it was a minor inconvenience. That was just how he worked. So yes, I’d landed a solid hit—deadly, even—but it wasn’t the kind of clean bifurcation that would kill him in an instant. Normally, his body would’ve kicked into full self-repair mode by now, dragging him back from the brink like it always did. He might’ve still been staggering, but he wouldn’t be down.

But this time, nothing. No twitch. No stirring. No regeneration. He lay there like a mountain of raw meat, unmoving and silent.

Why? Because I didn’t let him.

The blade I’d used—Excalibur, the God-Slaying Relic—was no ordinary weapon. It bore a divine attribute designed specifically to erase entities on an astral level. It didn’t just tear through flesh and bone; it bypassed the physical entirely and struck at the core of a being—their spiritual essence. Even a monster like the Ogre Emperor couldn’t regenerate from that. You don’t grow back something that no longer exists.

My eyes swept across the battlefield. All around me, the Ogre Generals who had, moments ago, exuded nothing but bloodlust were now in full retreat. The moment their Emperor dropped, they broke like dominoes, fleeing in every direction. They knew what was coming if they stayed.

But not everyone was running. Twelve figures remained. The Ogre Kings.

And unlike the Generals, these ones weren’t looking to escape. They moved with slow steps, surrounding me with the grim patience of predators confident in their power. Their aura pressed in like a closing vise, thick with intent. They wanted to finish what their Emperor had started.

Unfortunately for them, I had no intention of sticking around.

I still had other gates to secure, other battlefronts to support. I didn’t have the luxury of letting this drag out.

“Alright then. Time for a quick wipe,” I muttered under my breath, more to steel myself than anything else, a sharp grin curling at the corner of my mouth.

From beneath my cloak, I drew a small blade—fifteen centimeters of polished, unassuming steel—and with a practiced flick of my wrist, sent it spinning through the air toward the nearest King. On the surface, it was just a throwing knife, light and underpowered. Almost laughably underwhelming.

But in the right hands? It was more than enough.

The moment I let the first knife fly, my hand dipped back into the sheath-lined interior of my cloak. Another blade came free with a whisper of steel. I didn’t miss a beat. Second throw, clean release.

A dull thud rang out as the first Ogre King collapsed. A moment later, the second followed, crashing to the ground like a felled tree.

I didn’t slow down. Third knife. Fourth. Each one left my fingers in a perfect arc, every throw a dead-center strike. Tonight’s ace pitcher was on fire—no wild balls, no wasted effort. Every single blade nailed its mark straight in the vitals.

Thwack. Thud. Another one down. And another.

“Tch.” A quiet click of my tongue slipped out as I watched the ninth target stagger, still breathing. I’d aimed for the heart, and it should’ve been a kill shot, but the blade drifted a few centimeters left, embedding itself in the lung instead. Not fatal. Not instantly, anyway.

I sighed, flicked another knife free, and corrected the oversight. Three more blades followed in quick succession.

Total time: exactly three seconds.

Twelve Ogre Kings. Thirteen knives.

I didn’t quite pull off a perfect game, since I missed the one-shot kill by a hair, but it was still a clean shutout. A mercy rule win. More than enough to earn a passing grade.

I gave a short, satisfied nod, just in time to hear the knight commander sputtering behind me.

“Wh-Wh-What? The Ogre Kings… They’re just… dying… like garbage… from throwing knives?! Wait, what?! The Ogre Kings?! Garbage?! What? How?!”

His voice rose several octaves with each word, eyes flicking wildly between the fallen bodies and the blades sticking from their corpses. I didn’t turn around. Didn’t need to.

Not that I blamed him. From the perspective of a regular soldier, watching a dozen towering monsters drop like puppets with their strings cut, felled by nothing more than a handful of knives, had to be a disturbing sight.

Still. I had just taken down the Ogre Emperor. This was nothing by comparison.

I pushed his disbelief aside and refocused, mentally organizing the battlefield. North and south seemed clear. West, handled. That was my side.

Which left just one problem.

“Looks like it’s time to deal with the troublemakers,” I muttered.

I turned east and broke into a sprint, cloak billowing behind me. According to reconnaissance, the eastern sector, where the instructors and students from the Magic Academy had been deployed, hadn’t yet encountered the ogres.

Yet.

The eastern and western gates were connected by a single, straight avenue cutting through the heart of the city, roughly five kilometers from end to end. At full speed, I could cross that distance in under thirty seconds without breaking a sweat.

But blitzing through the center of town at near-sonic velocity? Way too conspicuous.

And more importantly, impossible. The streets were packed with civilians, and weaving through that many bodies didn’t exactly allow for top speed.

“Ugh, this is so damn frustrating!” I muttered, dodging left and right through the crowd in a brisk zigzag. My boots barely touched the ground as I threaded between startled merchants, panicked pedestrians, and oblivious passersby.

Then I heard a sharp, female scream. About ten meters ahead, just off my right flank.

A beat later, the panic rippled outward like a shockwave. Screams multiplied. The crowd around the source scattered in every direction, fleeing like cockroaches under torchlight.

Instinct took over. I veered toward the source, every nerve on high alert. Then, I saw it. And for a moment, even I was speechless.

The buildings lining this boulevard were equipped with sewer lines fed by the city’s riverways. A practical bit of infrastructure that had just turned into a nightmare.

From the open mouth of a manhole, thick, muscular ogres with crimson skin were pouring into the streets in a steady stream.

I’d only been scanning above ground this whole time. Shit.

I immediately pushed a secondary scan underground. The result made me click my tongue in irritation.

“Damn it! Some fortress city this is… They’re pouring in from the sewers like it’s a goddamn open door!”

Just ahead of me, an elderly woman tripped and fell. One of the ogres lunged, fist cocked back to crush her like a bug.

My hand moved before I even finished the thought.

One knife. One throw. One kill.

The ogre dropped.

But I couldn’t help the sigh that escaped me. What now?

Based on the scan, there were no Ogre Generals or Kings in this sewer-borne strike team. Just the low-tier brutes. Still, for unarmed civilians, that didn’t matter. These things were more than enough to leave a street full of corpses in their wake.

As I weighed my options, more ogres began to claw their way out of the manholes in an endless stream.

I turned my gaze toward the eastern gate, my jaw tight.

“So, what’s it gonna be?” I muttered, voice low and bitter. “Clean this mess up now or ignore the casualties and head straight for Koharu? There’s only one of me.”

The setting shifted. East gate.

“Ahhh! Ahhh! I-It’s the O-Ogre Emperor! The Ogre Emperooor!”

“F-Father! This is why I begged you not to send me to this cursed academy!”

“P-Please! Someone, help! Arghhh!”

“Instructor?! What do we do?! What are we supposed to do?!”

“R-Retreat! Everyone, fall back! Instructors, prioritize evacuation of the noble heirs, protect the scholarship class, and get them out! The rest of you, fend for yourselves! The general class is on its own!”

“Gah! Nooo!”

There was no battle. No resistance.

The mere arrival of the Ogre Emperor was enough.

With that alone, the will to fight drained from every student, every instructor.

※※※

It was pandemonium—utter, blinding chaos.

A stampede of screaming bodies, each one desperate to be the first to escape. Discipline shattered. Order crumbled. Only the scholarship class, led by their instructors, retained a shred of coordination. And even that came at a cost.

They surged forward with brutal efficiency, plowing through the fleeing crowd. To them, the general students were just obstacles, furniture in the way of survival. They didn’t hesitate to shove, elbow, or outright punch their way through, driving straight toward the safety of the inner gate at a breakneck pace.

It was like watching a herd of raging bulls barrel through a field of panicked fawns.

And then, one of those fawns got caught in the stampede.

“Wha— Huh?! Wait, why are you all looking at me like that? That’s… that’s a scary face, you know? W-Wait, you’re not stopping? You’re not stopping?! Why aren’t you stopping?!”

She could’ve stepped aside. Could’ve slipped into the shadows like everyone else. That would’ve been the smart thing to do.

But Koharu Saegusa didn’t move.

The moment her eyes locked onto the Ogre Emperor’s towering silhouette, her mind unraveled. A long-buried nightmare surged to the surface, ghosts of her past clawing their way into the present. She had seen a demon before. She’d watched one tear through her village, her home. She had survived, but just barely.

Now, frozen in that same suffocating terror, she couldn’t think. Couldn’t run. Couldn’t breathe.

And, well, Koharu wasn’t the sharpest knife in the drawer, even on a good day.

Before she could snap out of it, a blur of motion slammed into her. One of the elite students, the scholarship class, shoved her aside like she was a broken chair in the middle of the road. She crumpled to the ground, breath knocked from her lungs.

No one stopped.

No one swerved.

Not a single soul even slowed down.

“Ah—”

She managed a gasp before instinct kicked in. Dropping flat onto her stomach, she curled into herself, hands clamped over the back of her head. A desperate shield against the storm.

Thundering footfalls pounded the dirt around her, then over her. Boots drove into her back, her legs, her arms. A relentless barrage of pain crushed her beneath the stampede. Every step threatened to cave in her ribs. Her vision flickered, teetering on the edge of blackout.

Stay awake. Stay awake. Don’t pass out, don’t pass out!

And then, suddenly, the pain stopped.

Koharu blinked, dazed. Something, someone, was covering her. A body, crouched on all fours, shielding her from the onslaught. She looked up.

It was a boy. One of her classmates. Arms and back trembling, heels dug into the dirt, he took every brutal stomp in her place.

When the last of the stampede had passed and the thunder of hooves became distant echoes, he slowly rose to his feet. Then, without a word, he offered her a hand.

Koharu stared, stunned. “Arthur? Why are you—?”

He met her gaze, voice calm but firm. “Do I need a reason to help a classmate?”

Arthur Markham, the pretty boy with golden hair down to his shoulders. Third son of a poverty-stricken noble house. Quick to temper, always trading barbs with Ryuto. He had his own baggage and more than a few grudges.

They’d butted heads before. He’d even suffered for her once, thanks to the Academy’s group punishment system.

“But Arthur,” Koharu murmured, voice catching, “back then, when you got your meals taken away, you called me a useless klutz. You said if I weren’t a girl, you’d have punched me.”

Arthur chuckled without the slightest hint of guilt, flashing a crooked smile. “Yeah. And I also said something else, didn’t I? My old man taught me never to hit women.” He glanced down at her, exasperated. “Still, you really don’t stop screwing up, do you? Even now, you’re hopeless.”

There was no malice in his tone. Just the kind of blunt, backhanded affection only someone like Arthur could pull off.

Koharu gave a sheepish laugh, then bowed her head with quiet sincerity. “Thank you. Really. Now come on, we need to get inside the gate.”

Arthur nodded and reached for her hand to help her up.

“Ah! Ow!”

She jerked back instinctively. “What’s wrong?!”

He winced, shifting his weight to the other foot. “Guess I messed up, too. Got stepped on real good.”

“Your leg…?”

“Yeah,” he muttered. “Caught a solid one in the stampede. Best case, it’s a sprain. Worst case… might be broken.”

He scanned the area. No one was left.

The others had already made it safely through the gate. The courtyard stood empty behind them, silent now, except for the distant roar of war cries ahead.

They’d been left behind.

Turning back toward the open field, Arthur’s expression darkened. He shook his head slowly.

“Ogres. Whole damn horde of them.”

Just as he said, the monstrous swarm had closed in to within fifty meters. At the head was the Ogre Emperor himself, towering and grotesque. Beside him marched several Ogre Kings—massive, armored beasts—and behind them came rank upon rank of Ogre Generals and their snarling foot soldiers.

Arthur laughed softly. Not bitter. Not afraid. Just accepting.

He swept his golden hair back with one hand, gaze steady.

“Go, Koharu. I’ll hold them off, buy you as much time as I can. I’m not dying for nothing, alright? If you trip and fall again, I swear I’ll come back and haunt you.”

Tears welled in her eyes. She stood frozen, lips trembling, voice barely a whisper.

“Why? Why would you go this far for someone like me? For a useless, slow, stupid girl like me?”

“I’m a noble,” Arthur said, his voice quiet but steady. “They mock me now, say I’m just the third son of a broke, fallen house, but I don’t care.”

Koharu didn’t respond. She could only look at him, shaken, breath hitched.

Arthur met her gaze, eyes filled with quiet defiance.

“What kind of noble can’t even protect one girl?” Then his calm cracked, voice rising in a raw shout that echoed across the empty field. “I may be broke, my name worth less than dirt, but I never took a single damn tax from commoners just to save my own skin!”

He threw a hand toward the gate.

“So run, Koharu! Go! Don’t waste this!”

But she couldn’t. Her body wouldn’t move.

She reached for the divine power of her bloodline, tried to summon the strength to fight, but her legs trembled, her focus slipped. It was no use. The power of the Saegusa clan didn’t draw from within. It wasn’t hers to command freely. It had to be borrowed, a blessing from a higher power. And gods didn’t lend their strength to panicked minds.

It was like begging a bank to invest in a company led by a shaking wreck in torn clothes. Divine power demanded composure.

Even in the relatively calm safety of the Forest of Fog, she hadn’t been able to access it. And now? With the very monsters that had wiped out her family charging straight at her?

There was no way.

What do I do? I can’t do anything. I’m useless. If I freeze up now, we’ll both die.

Then, from behind, from the gate they’d thought abandoned, a voice rang out, high and sharp.

“Well, would you look at that? Even the dead-last class has some fight in them.”

Arthur blinked, startled. His expression twisted into disbelief as he turned.

“Cordelia Allston…?”

Before he could even process the sight, another voice followed—cool, quiet, but cutting through the noise like a blade.

“She’s not alone.”

Koharu turned as well. There, standing beside Cordelia, as if she’d been there the entire time, was another girl, calm and steady, radiating quiet strength.

“Lilith?”

The two girls stepped forward, leaving Arthur and Koharu behind as they advanced toward the approaching horde. Within moments, they’d passed the pair entirely, putting themselves within striking distance of the ogres, barely a breath away from the monstrous front line.

Cordelia’s voice cut through the thickening tension, crisp and analytical. “We’re dealing with the Ogre Emperor and his entire escort. If we try to fight them one by one, we’ll be crushed. No question.”

Lilith gave a curt nod, her tone flat. “Most likely, yes.”

Without hesitation, Cordelia extended her right hand toward her.

A simple and clear gesture of alliance. Lilith stared at it for a beat, then smacked it aside with a sharp slap.

Cordelia’s eye twitched. “What the hell?! You’re seriously turning down teamwork now?”

“I’ll fight,” Lilith said calmly. “There’s no other choice. So yes, we’ll cooperate.”

“Then what was the point of swatting my hand?”

Lilith paused. Then, with a voice like frost, she replied, “Don’t mistake necessity for friendship.”

Cordelia blinked, then smirked, the corner of her mouth curling upward with something between amusement and challenge. “Hah. Alright. Suits me just fine.”

Side by side, but not together, they turned to face the horde.

Cordelia’s eyes flared crimson. The air around her shimmered as a deep red aura erupted from her skin, crackling with violent potential. She nodded to herself, ready to unleash the storm.

Then, just as quickly as it had ignited, the glow around her flickered out. Her crimson irises faded back to their usual bright blue in the blink of an eye.

Cordelia clicked her tongue, irritated.

Lilith tilted her head slightly, expression unreadable. “What happened, Cordelia Allston?”

Cordelia grimaced, lips tightening into a wry line. “Have a guess…”

Lilith gave a slow, impassive nod. “You’re out of power.”

“Bingo,” Cordelia muttered. “Guess I overdid it up north. Blew through everything.”

Her berserker mode wasn’t just a spell; it was a brutal doctrine that pushed her physical limits far beyond the breaking point for a massive, temporary surge in combat strength. In the battle at the northern gate, she’d gone all in, fighting without restraint or pacing, relying on nothing but raw, unfiltered power.

And now, she was empty.

Of course, Cordelia was out of power. No one could be expected to go full throttle at the north gate, blow through every ounce of energy like a firework on its last fuse, and then just keep fighting. She’d burned herself out, and now she had nothing left to give.

Cordelia clicked her tongue, frustrated, then slowly turned her head toward Koharu. That look said it all: “You’re up.”

Koharu’s face went pale. “Me? You can’t seriously expect… I-I can’t—”

The words tumbled out in a stammering mess. She couldn’t even meet their eyes.

Lilith looked at her once. Just once. And in that single glance, her expression made it very clear what she thought.

She turned to Cordelia, voice flat with scorn. “Forget it. She’s not worth it.”

Cordelia frowned. “Excuse me?”

“Ryuto said she could do it. She says she can’t. And Ryuto doesn’t speak empty words. So either she’s lying… or she’s too afraid to try. Either way, she’s not someone we can count on.” Lilith didn’t stop there. “People who can’t do something are one thing. But people who won’t? They’re worse than useless. At least the weak can be helped. But someone who gives up from the start? That’s just dead weight.”

“Geez,” Cordelia muttered. “Tell us how you really feel.”

“I don’t need her,” Lilith said coldly. “I’ll go alone.”

And she did.

Without waiting, without hesitating, she stepped forward toward the oncoming horde, one girl against an army.

Koharu called after her, voice cracking. “Wait! Why are you doing this?! You can’t win on your own!”

Lilith didn’t slow.

“Because Ryuto told me I could. That’s all that matters. If he believes in me, then I’ll keep pushing forward. One step at a time, doing what I can until I win.”

Koharu’s voice trembled. “Why? Why do you trust him so much?”

At that, Lilith paused. Just for a second.

“Because he’s everything to me. And I’m everything to him. That’s what I believe.”

Then she walked on toward the monster swarm that had once annihilated Koharu’s entire clan.

Cordelia stayed back, watching her go. She exhaled, rubbed her temple, then gave Koharu a sideways glance that was measured and calculating, maybe even a little gentle.

“I’ve heard a bit about your past. Just enough to want to ask you something.”

Koharu’s voice came out in a whisper, thin and uncertain. “What do you want from me?”

Cordelia smiled gently. There was no smugness in it, no superiority, just quiet kindness, the kind that stripped away defenses. “Are you afraid to fight?”

The question hit harder than Koharu expected. Her lips parted, but for a moment, no words came out. Then, her voice cracked. “You don’t understand. You couldn’t. You’re not like me.” She shook her head, voice trembling. “People like you are born with courage, with the power and bravery of a Hero. Someone like you could never understand what it’s like to lose everything.”

Cordelia tilted her head, her smile shifting into something more bittersweet.

“Of course, I’m afraid.” She pointed down at her legs. “Look.”

Koharu blinked, confused, then followed her gesture and realized. Cordelia’s knees were trembling. Not enough to be obvious, but just enough to betray the truth. The girl, known as a Hero, was shaking.

“I’m terrified,” Cordelia said plainly. “Of dying. Of getting hurt. Of being captured and… worse.” Her voice hitched slightly, but she pushed through it. “It’s terrifying. And I hate it. But I have power that most people don’t. Power that can actually change things. So even if I’m scared… I don’t get to run.”

Koharu looked away, lashes lowered. Her voice came even softer now. “Then why not just leave? You could’ve walked away. Why didn’t you?”

Cordelia fell quiet. Her gaze drifted up toward the sky, her smile softening into a distant, nostalgic one. “I thought about it. I really did. A long time ago, Ryuto said to me, ‘If you hate all of this, then don’t do it. We can disappear together. Go somewhere far away, somewhere no one knows us.’”

“Then why didn’t you?” Koharu asked, barely breathing.

“Because there was someone I wanted to protect.” Cordelia’s eyes shimmered as she spoke, not with tears, but with memory. “At first, it was just one person. A quiet, kind boy. Just a Villager. I thought if I could protect him, that would be enough. That would make everything worth it.”

She let out a soft laugh, a flicker of mischief sparking across her face.

“But then, I realized he didn’t need my protection. Because he was stronger than I ever imagined.”

Koharu’s breath caught. Her eyes widened as the pieces fell into place. “You mean… the person you love is… Ryuto?”

“I made a decision,” Cordelia said quietly, her eyes steady on the horizon. “To protect the people I love. The ones closest to me, the villagers who raised me, the country that shelters them, and, eventually, this world that holds it all together.”

Then, as if that were the end of the conversation, she clapped her hands together with finality.

“That’s my belief. My conviction: to protect the people I love no matter what.”

Koharu breathed the words back at her. “Conviction…”

Cordelia gave her a sideways glance, softer now. “You don’t have to fight if you don’t want to. Ryuto once told me the same thing. But listen, Koharu… you’re one of the people I want to protect. Even if I die, I’ll be proud knowing I stood for someone like you.”

With that, she turned and began walking after Lilith, without activating her berserker power or backup. Her steps were unsteady. Her back trembled faintly. But her will was unbroken. Cordelia marched toward the horde with the strength of someone who had already made peace with fear.

Her knees, though, betrayed her, shaking so visibly now that it was painful to watch. Her body had limits. And she was nearing them.

Behind her, Koharu stood frozen, teeth clenched, eyes wide, not from fear, but from something sharper. Hotter.

“Unbelievable…” she muttered. “Every single one of you… calling me trash, calling me dead weight… acting like I’m some pathetic little thing you need to protect. You—” Her voice broke, then sharpened again. “You’re all on your last legs and still talking about protecting me when I didn’t even ask you to!”

Something inside her snapped. The helplessness, the fear, the self-loathing that had rooted itself so deep inside, it cracked, and something fierce came flooding through.

“You think you can just write me off?! Call me useless? Call me a burden? You think you can look down on me, on Koharu Saegusa, heir of the Eastern Shrine Maidens?! Raised in a lineage of divine warriors, revered by gods and feared by demons—me?!”

A half-mad grin broke across her face as she slapped her cheeks, loud and sharp. Her hands stung, but it grounded her. Brought the fire back into her blood.

She stared out at the battlefield, eyes blazing.

“Come on, Koharu. What the hell are you doing, letting bottom-feeders talk down to you like that? You’re the head of the Saegusa bloodline, the vessel of divine descent. You’re not some trembling little girl. You’re a shrine maiden of the east. The world bends to you.”

Then her hair began to rise, static dancing across each strand as if caught in a rising storm.

Something was awakening.

Something divine.

It began like static, but grander, as if the atmosphere itself was charging with divine voltage. Koharu’s long black hair, once soft and weightless, now stood on end, rigid as if locked in place by wax and steel. Not a single strand moved with the wind. It was as if her fury had rewritten the laws of gravity.

Then the air around her exploded with crackling light.

A surge of blue-white lightning spiderwebbed outward from her in a perfect circle—five meters wide, pulsing with violent energy. The ground at her feet trembled. The ozone was thick enough to taste.

All the years of scorn—being called slow, useless, a disgrace to her name—boiled to the surface. Her pride, already worn raw, had been stripped bare by Lilith’s cutting dismissal, then casually stomped on by Cordelia’s well-meaning condescension. “One of the people I want to protect,” she’d said, lumping Koharu in with the powerless and pitiful.

To a girl raised in a warrior bloodline, to a shrine maiden bred for battle, there could be no greater insult.

This awakening wasn’t born from duty.

It wasn’t justice or compassion or the desperate urge to save her classmates.

It was rage.

Pure, blinding, righteous rage. Enough to burn through years of trauma in an instant.

The electric discharge intensified. The air itself cracked and split like dry bark in a lightning storm. Her body trembled—not from fear, but from the raw power now flowing through it, unrestrained for the first time in her life.

Then, without warning, she thrust a hand toward the sky and roared.

“DESCEND, WAR GOD TAKE-MIKAZUCHI!”

Lilith and Cordelia spun around, instinctively reacting to the surge of power behind them. What they saw stopped them cold.

Koharu was marching straight toward them, her boots sparking with residual lightning. Her expression was no longer timid, no longer lost; it was feral. She made a beeline for Lilith, grabbed her by the collar, and yanked her close enough for their foreheads to nearly touch.

“Hey. You. Goth-goblin.”

Lilith blinked in disbelief. “Are you talking to me?”

Koharu’s voice dropped into a growl, every word vibrating with fury. “What the hell did you say about me back there? Huh? No motivation? Useless? Garbage?! Say it again. I dare you.”

Lilith stared at her, too stunned to reply. “Are you… actually Koharu?”

“Damn right I am,” Koharu snapped, letting her go with a shove. “The one and only ultra-cute, busty little war maiden, Koharu freakin’ Saegusa. And you? You’re on my list. We’re settling this later, one-on-one. Don’t even think about ghosting me, you gloomy little goblin.”

Lilith stood frozen, mouth open in blank disbelief.

Cordelia, watching all this unfold, blinked hard. “What just happened?”

Lilith, still staring at Koharu, muttered as if to herself, “It must be a side effect. The possession… She’s in a trance, or the god’s personality is leaking into her own. There’s a psychological shift happening. Possibly a split consciousness.”

“A divine split personality?” Cordelia echoed, more baffled than skeptical.

But the storm wasn’t done yet. Koharu’s rage turned on its next victim.

“And you,” she growled, locking eyes with Cordelia, “dumb musclehead.”

Cordelia blinked, startled. “Wait, what?! Me?”

Koharu stomped toward her, grabbed her by the front of her uniform, and hauled her forward with the same ferocity.

“Yeah, you! Who the hell else? You think you can just stand there, spouting heroic nonsense and patting me on the head like some helpless little mascot?! Think being a ‘Hero’ means you get to talk down to everyone else? Don’t act like you’re better than me just because you’ve got a glowing sword and a soft-focus backstory!”

Cordelia could only gape. “Did you just… Did you seriously just call me—”

“Don’t play dumb, you overgrown cheerleader in a cape! You and me? We’re throwing down. As soon as this is over, I’m knocking the smug off your face, gorilla-bitch.”

Cordelia’s jaw dropped. “Gorilla… bitch?”

Neither she nor Lilith could quite process what was happening. But Koharu had already turned her back on them, tossing her long, crackling hair behind her like a battle flag.

For the first time since the chaos began, her attention locked onto the true enemy: the ogres. And this time, they were the ones who should have been afraid.

With both middle fingers proudly raised to the heavens, Koharu bellowed across the battlefield.

“Come get some, you rotting sacks of demon meat! You’re about to be torn apart by the Thunder God herself, Koharu Saegusa, Eastern Shrine Maiden! I’ll light you up so hard you’ll twitch yourselves into hell!”

Lightning surged around her in erratic arcs, and she formed a tight fist with her right hand, lightly tapping her temple with a smirk. Her tongue slipped playfully across her lip.

“Divine Zone: Auto-Trigger Protocol!”

Then she vanished.

The acceleration was instant, almost violent. One second, she was standing still; the next, she was a blur, tearing across the battlefield at speeds that rivaled even Cordelia in her berserker state. A thunderclap cracked in her wake.

Her body moved like a machine unbound by human limits, each motion perfectly synchronized. The technique she’d activated bypassed the body’s natural safeguards, feeding electric signals directly into her spinal cord. Reflexes, strength, speed—everything had been overridden. She was moving beyond human.

She launched herself skyward with a ground-splitting leap, trailing arcs of lightning behind her like divine wings. High above the ogre horde, she twisted her body midair, winding back her right arm as if she were a pitcher preparing a fastball for the ages.

Electricity exploded around her open palm. Bolts coiled and surged, forming a brilliant, unstable sphere of crackling violet energy. It continued to grow, the surges intensifying, the whole thing alive with raw power.

“Let’s see how you handle this straight down the middle!” she shouted. “Thunder God’s Wrath:Stormbreaker Pitch!”

She hurled it.

The sphere screamed through the air, gaining mass and speed as it flew. By the time it reached the center of the horde, it had transformed into a radiant storm front, a massive orb of pure electrical force, expanding as it traveled. When it struck, the blast radius expanded outward, exceeding a hundred meters in all directions.

First came the flash, blinding white and electric blue, swallowing the world in divine radiance.

Then came the sound, a thunderclap so deep it felt like it shook the bones from within. A sharp crack split the silence, followed by a rolling detonation that echoed like a collapsing mountain.

Inside the radiant storm, hundreds of lesser ogres and Generals were caught in the blast. Bodies convulsed and dropped one by one, steam rising from charred skin. They fell like thunderstruck trees, the wave of devastation felling them faster than they could scream.

What remained was silence.

And smoke.

And Koharu Saegusa, floating gently down through the afterglow, crackling with power.

With that single blast, more than half of the ogre horde was wiped out in an instant. Limbs smoldered, armor lay melted on the ground, and the air buzzed with the lingering scent of ozone and scorched flesh.

But not all of them had fallen.

The Ogre Kings, the true monsters, still stood.

Koharu’s eyes narrowed, scanning the battlefield. Three of them remained in her sight, massive and unmoving, their hulking forms framed in smoke. They hadn’t taken a knee. Hadn’t even flinched.

“Figures,” she muttered, cracking a grin. “Looks like the Kings are gonna put up a fight. Good. I could use a warm-up.”

She reached into her coat and pulled out three iron spheres, each the size of a clenched fist. Cold, heavy, and humming faintly from the residual charge of her divine aura.

With a flick of her wrist, she tossed them high into the air, then extended her palm straight out, aimed directly at the three kings.

Behind her, Lilith’s face went pale.

She recognized the setup instantly. Her body moved before her thoughts caught up, launching into a full sprint toward Cordelia.

“Wait, Lilith? What are you—?!”

Cordelia barely got the words out before she was tackled to the ground like a rugby dummy. Lilith pinned her there, eyes flat and focused, already chanting.

“I’ll be blunt. Without your berserker mode, you’re just a liability.”

Layer after layer of glowing wards formed around them, defensive barriers stacked thick enough to repel a god’s wrath. Cordelia tried to protest, but Lilith’s expression silenced her.

The next moment, Koharu’s cheerful voice rang out behind them. There was a sing-song quality to it, but something about it was terrifying.

“Type-Zero Electromagnetic Control: Railgun.”

There was no sound at first. Just a sharp shimmer in the air, as if space itself flinched. Then—

Boom.

The world convulsed.

The three iron spheres fired at a velocity that mocked physics, tearing through the air with a sonic crack that split the battlefield. Trees vaporized in their wake. Shockwaves radiated outward, flattening brush and hurling debris in every direction.

Each shot found its mark.

Chest. Gut. Skull.

The three Ogre Kings didn’t even register the attack. No roar, no defense, just the sudden, grotesque detonation of flesh and bone as their bodies burst apart, fragments scattering like cursed confetti across the scorched earth.

Lilith released a long, slow breath as she lowered the barrier.

Cordelia, wide-eyed, slowly pushed herself up from the dirt. She pointed shakily toward the battlefield, where Koharu, still crackling with residual lightning, was already charging headfirst into the next cluster of ogres.

“She’s not stopping,” Cordelia whispered, dread and awe in her voice. “She’s going again.”

“I get what you’re thinking,” Lilith said quietly, eyes locked on the storm Koharu was conjuring across the battlefield.

Cordelia stood beside her, expression a mix of awe and sheer confusion. “Are we seriously talking about Koharu right now? Because I swear that doesn’t look like her anymore.”

“I know what it looks like,” Lilith repeated, tone calm but clipped. “And I’m telling you, I understand.”

Cordelia slowly shook her head. “If she keeps going like this, she might be stronger than either of us.”

“Might be?” Lilith shot her a glance. “She is stronger than me. At least under the current conditions.”

Cordelia frowned, still trying to make sense of what she’d seen. “And what the hell were those metal balls? I’ve never seen anything move that fast. It didn’t even look like magic.”

“I have,” Lilith said softly. “A long time ago. Ryuto used something similar once. He called it a railgun.”

“A railgun?” Cordelia echoed, like the word tasted foreign in her mouth.

Lilith nodded. “He said it’s a form of hyper-physical magic. It channels lightning to its absolute limit, both in power and in precision. With the right control, you can launch a physical object at impossible speeds. That’s what she did.”

“Hyper-physical… magic?” Cordelia said the words slowly, clearly struggling to understand. “That’s a thing?”

She couldn’t be blamed for not getting it. The concept of converting electromagnetism into kinetic weaponry, grounded in modern physics, was far beyond what her world considered magic. It was natural science masquerading as sorcery.

“It’s based on something Ryuto called the power of science,” Lilith added. “A type of knowledge-based magic no one here should even be able to perform.”

Cordelia stared at her. “And yet, there she is.”

In front of them, Koharu unleashed another barrage. Another wall of lightning erupted outward, consuming the field in a blinding blue-white dome. The scale of it was absurd, easily over a hundred meters, discharging with the force of a natural disaster.

“She’s doing it again,” Cordelia muttered, shielding her eyes. “That kind of area-of-effect spell… Even if we assumed she’s a top-tier A-rank Mage, she shouldn’t be able to sustain that kind of power output. Not for this long.”

“She’s not using mana,” Lilith said, voice barely audible above the fading thunder.

Cordelia blinked. “What?”

Lilith’s gaze didn’t waver. “She’s not spending her own mana. That’s why she hasn’t burned out yet.”

“She’s not depleting it?” Cordelia echoed, her voice teetering between disbelief and confusion. “But she’s casting massive-scale spells. Like, top-tier magic, repeatedly.”

Lilith nodded, calm and certain. “That’s why it doesn’t make sense to you. You’re not a Mage. But I can feel it. Every magician worth their salt can. The spirit energy in the air? It’s vanishing. Rapidly.”

“You mean… It’s being consumed?” Cordelia asked, her brow furrowing.

“Exactly,” Lilith said. “She’s not using her own mana; she’s drawing it externally. Think of it like an ambient fuel line. In simple terms, she’s tapped into something much larger than herself.”

Cordelia exhaled. “So like, external magic supply?”

“That’s a crude way to put it,” Lilith said with a wry smile, “but yes. In the east, they believe in the ‘Myriad Gods,’ a pantheon of gods that dwell in all things. Trees, stones, rivers, even cities. Gods are everywhere and nowhere. They exist in every breath of nature, hidden in plain sight.”

Cordelia scratched her head, expression blank. “Okay, uh, you lost me at ‘pantheon.’ Magic, I get. Philosophy? Not my thing.”

Lilith gave a long-suffering sigh, but her smile lingered. “Of course. Brains and brawn rarely coexist. Anyway, the gist is that what Koharu calls divine descent isn’t just a dramatic catchphrase. She literally becomes a vessel for those forces. She embodies the will of nature, of the gods. That’s why she’s called a shrine maiden. That’s what a medium really is.”

Cordelia fell silent for a moment, absorbing it all. “So she’s not casting spells. She’s channeling a god.”

Lilith nodded. “Exactly. But that kind of power has a price.”

She turned, watching the distant flashes of lightning flare once more as Koharu launched another attack. “The way she’s fighting now is reckless. Unsustainable. Unless she has divine-grade recovery rituals prepared or constant elixirs on hand, her body won’t survive this. Her muscle tissue, her brain, maybe even her internal organs are all under strain. Every burst shortens her life.”

Cordelia’s face hardened. “That’s… not a small thing to say.”

“She’s probably been raised with sacred tonics,” Lilith murmured, “but those aren’t cheap. And judging from her situation now, she can’t afford them. She’s not just out of mana. She’s burning away her lifespan.”

There was a beat of silence between them.

Then Cordelia asked, her voice quiet but sharp, “So what are we supposed to do?”

Lilith’s response was immediate, unwavering. “Obviously, Ryuto will find a way.”

At that, Cordelia’s expression shifted, brows knitting, jaw tightening. A vein throbbed faintly at her temple as her voice dropped into something low and bitter.

“Of course. Your Ryuto.”

The way she said it—possessive, territorial—was enough to leave a mark.

Lilith smirked at the sharp edge in Cordelia’s voice, her expression smug and unshaken. “You should understand something,” she said, voice cold and laced with triumph. “What Ryuto and I share, no sword, not even your holy one, can cut through.”

Cordelia raised a hand, palm out, stopping her with calm finality. “I’m not here to argue. Not now. Not in the middle of this.”

There was a pause, and Lilith’s posture loosened, shoulders lifting in a shrug that was part concession, part indifference.

“So,” Cordelia said, regaining focus, “what’s the verdict? What exactly is happening to Koharu?”

Lilith hesitated, then gave the answer without embellishment. “Without divine-grade medicine or elixirs, she has a few years at most. What you are watching now is a life burning at both ends. A shrine maiden built for one moment of brilliance, then ash.”

Cordelia’s expression tightened.

“It’s why her people live in isolated enclaves,” Lilith added. “All their wealth, all their medicines—everything is funneled into one person. The high priestess. The divine weapon.”

Before Cordelia could respond, the battlefield shifted.

A shadow fell over Koharu.

She looked up.

There, towering like a mountain of flesh and armor, stood the Ogre Emperor.

It was monstrous, a living wall of muscle and malice that seemed to blot out the sun. Koharu barely broke five feet tall. The contrast would’ve been comical if it weren’t so deadly.

“Heh. You think being huge makes you scary?” she called out, laughing loud and wild. “Newsflash, asshole, bigger things hurt more when they go down!”

Then she cackled, her laughter unhinged and delighted, as if she were having the time of her life. “Not that I’d know, of course! Still a virgin! Hahaha!”

She reached into her coat and whipped out another iron sphere.

“Type-Zero Electromagnetic Control: RAILGUN!”

There was no grand boom and no blinding flash. Instead, a sharp snap echoed, like someone cracking their knuckles. In the next instant, a hole two meters wide appeared in the Ogre Emperor’s gut, the wound so clean and vicious it looked as though it had been punched straight through his stomach.

Blood geysered and intestines spilled, but the beast didn’t fall.

Instead, it smiled.

A slow, knowing smile.

Behind her, Lilith let out a deep, resigned breath.

“Just as I thought… even at the highest tier of A-rank magic, Koharu still can’t kill it. The Ogre Emperor is in a different league entirely.”

The monster’s organs writhed, slithering like serpents as muscle and flesh began to stitch themselves back together. The gaping wound bubbled and sealed with unnatural speed.

Cordelia stood frozen, watching the Ogre Emperor’s wound seal shut as though the gaping hole in its stomach had never existed. Muscles writhed like snakes beneath the skin, veins knitting back together with unnatural precision. Her head slowly shook from side to side in disbelief.

“That’s the Ogre Emperor?” she whispered. “How the hell are we supposed to kill something like that? Lilith, seriously, how?”

Lilith’s eyes didn’t leave the battlefield. “What?”

Cordelia exhaled sharply. “Where’s Ryuto? Don’t tell me he’s just gonna show up late to this.”

“There’s been a breach,” Lilith said. “Ogres got into the city. He’s caught up in the chaos. He’ll be delayed.”

Then, a flicker of intent crossed her face. She turned to Cordelia, eyes sharp.

“Cordelia Allston. Can you go full throttle, berserker mode, for ten seconds?”

Cordelia raised a brow. “That’s the look of someone with a plan.”

Lilith gave a single, decisive nod.

Cordelia hesitated for a heartbeat, eyes narrowing in thought. “Twelve seconds… No, fifteen. I can sustain max output for about fifteen seconds. Not clean, but it’ll hold.”

Lilith scowled. “Twelve or fifteen? Pick one.”

Cordelia met her gaze evenly. “Fifteen.”

Lilith’s expression relaxed, a cold smile flickering on her lips. “That’ll do.”

Cordelia turned her focus back to the battlefield, where Koharu stood beneath the looming shadow of the regenerating giant. “All right, strategist. What’s the move?”

Lilith’s voice dropped to a calm murmur. “Cordelia.”

“What?”

“What would you say is the Ogre Emperor’s greatest strength?”

Cordelia glanced sideways at her, then back at the monster slowly lumbering forward. “Its regeneration, obviously. Even Koharu’s railgun couldn’t keep it down. If that doesn’t work, what else do we have?”

“Exactly,” Lilith said. “Its regeneration is the reason Koharu’s attacks don’t stick. It’s the reason A-rank combatants can’t finish the job.”

Cordelia stared at the creature: its sheer size, its unnatural durability, its monstrous calm.

“Great,” she muttered. “So it’s strong, fast, regenerates instantly, and has more raw power than an angry god. What, exactly, is the simple solution you promised me?”

Lilith’s eyes gleamed, calm and razor-sharp.

“The answer,” she said, “is beautifully simple.”

Cordelia frowned. “What are you saying?”

Lilith’s expression sharpened, her voice calm and deliberate. “If its regeneration is the problem, then we just need to destroy it faster than it can heal.”

Cordelia gave her a flat look. “If that were easy, Koharu would’ve handled it already—”

Lilith cut her off with a firm shake of her head. “Ten seconds.”

Cordelia blinked. “Ten seconds?”

Lilith nodded. “That’s the maximum amount of time I can paralyze a calamity-class S-rank threat. Ten seconds of full lockdown. No movement, no reaction. You get a stationary target.”

Cordelia’s brows lifted. “You’re saying you can stop that thing for ten whole seconds?”

Lilith’s voice remained steady. “That’s exactly what I’m saying. And during that time, I want you to carve the Ogre Emperor into pieces with that holy sword of yours.”

There was a beat of silence.

Cordelia clicked her tongue. “I hate taking orders from you. But fine. I’m in.”

Lilith gave a rare, satisfied nod. Without wasting another second, she turned and shouted toward the battlefield.

“Koharu!”

Downfield, Koharu was still trading blows with the Ogre Emperor, darting around the massive beast like a furious spark. She glanced back, clearly annoyed.

“What now?! I’m kinda busy over here with this oversized meat mountain! If you bottom-feeders have something to say, say it after I’m done kicking its ass!”

“You can’t win alone!” Lilith called back. “We’re joining in!”

Koharu scoffed. “Join in? What the hell are you talking about?!”

As if to punctuate her doubt, she reached into her coat and pulled out another iron sphere, clearly preparing another railgun shot. But Lilith’s expression twisted with irritation, a vein bulging at her temple.

“Would you just listen for once, you reckless amateur?!”

Koharu froze, mid-motion. “Amateur? Are you talking about me?”

Her voice wavered with disbelief.

Lilith didn’t flinch. “Yes. You may have power, but all you’ve done is flail around with it like a child swinging a sword too big to carry. You’re reacting to your power, not controlling it. That makes you dangerous, and not in a good way.”

Koharu stared back at her, momentarily speechless.

Lilith’s voice tore through the air like a war horn, sharp enough to shake the atmosphere itself.

“Cordelia and I will wear it down! You only need to land one shot, Koharu! Just one! Aim for its gut, and punch a hole straight through!”

The moment the words left her lips, Cordelia surged forward like a launched arrow. Her eyes had gone blood-red, and the aura around her blazed crimson, her body consumed by the berserker mode that turned her into a living weapon.

Two seconds.

The Ogre Emperor reacted instantly, swinging a massive fist toward her with all the subtlety of an avalanche. Cordelia darted to the side, and the blow slammed into the ground with earth-splitting force, carving a crater several meters wide. Dust and dirt exploded into the air, obscuring the battlefield for an instant.

Through the swirling haze, Cordelia pivoted, sprinting behind the beast with lethal grace.

Then it froze.

Not just halted, it stopped, as if caught in invisible chains. A sudden, unnatural stillness clung to its limbs. Lilith stood in the distance, her eyes closed, voice raised in a piercing chant as ancient syllables spilled from her lips like lightning.

Four seconds.

Cordelia didn’t hesitate. She raised the holy sword high, then brought it crashing down in a horizontal arc, cutting clean through the beast’s right Achilles tendon. There was a sharp snap, more like a twig cracking than flesh tearing, and the Emperor’s right leg collapsed beneath it. With a thunderous crash, the monster dropped to one knee.

Six seconds.

Spinning on her heel, Cordelia twisted into a second strike. Using her full momentum and the torque of her berserker strength, she drove the blade toward its left leg. The swing came faster than the eye could track, its force enhanced by sheer centrifugal force.

The sword connected with bone.

And shattered it.

Flesh exploded in a spray of dark blood as the Ogre Emperor dropped to both knees, the ground trembling beneath its bulk. For a moment, it seemed like the tide had turned.

Then Cordelia clicked her tongue in frustration.

The first injury, the tendon she’d severed, was already beginning to mend.

It was regenerating, even now.

“How much punishment does this bastard need?” Cordelia growled, swinging her sword in wide, brutal arcs.

Her blade bit deep into the Ogre Emperor’s flesh again and again, carving gashes across its monstrous body. Each strike was a slash of defiance, relentless and furious. The ground beneath them was slick with blood. She wasn’t just cutting; it was butchery. If there was ever a definition of “mincing something into ribbons,” this was it.

Eleven seconds.

Her assault became a dance—a whirling storm of steel and crimson, a ballet painted in gore. Blow after blow, dozens of them, and yet the beast kept breathing. Still, she didn’t stop. Couldn’t. Not when every second mattered.

Then she leapt.

With a single surge, Cordelia launched herself into the air, flipped her grip, and brought her blade down in a perfect, savage arc across the creature’s thick neck. The steel kissed its carotid artery, severing it in one clean, final motion.

She landed with a roll, barely upright, and immediately turned toward Lilith.

“So that was your plan from the start,” she muttered. “I was the distraction. The timer. Buy enough seconds to open a real shot. Guess I didn’t land anything that overrode its healing, but hey, whatever gets it done.”

With a bitter little smile, she staggered back from the monster, retreating as the clock hit its final tick.

Twelve seconds.

The Ogre Emperor dropped to its knees, finally wounded deeply enough to falter. It tried to rise, its legs already regenerating, its muscles twitching with grotesque resolve.

But then, it happened.

A voice echoed across the battlefield, cold and resounding.

“For the second time today, Golden Roar: Dragus Genocide.”

The world turned gold.

There was no warning. Just a sudden eruption of blinding, violent light that swallowed the landscape in a storm of pure brilliance. It was less magic and more annihilation, raw mana converted into golden devastation, a spell that didn’t just attack but erased.

The flash faded.

Ash drifted on the wind. The air itself seemed to hum with trauma.

Lilith watched the aftermath in silence, then clicked her tongue.

“Even with all that, it’s still not enough,” she muttered. “S-rank, even at its lowest classification… Koharu’s going to have to end it.”

Her gaze sharpened.

They’d cracked the shell.

Now came the final blow.

Even carbonized, the Ogre Emperor was still alive.

Lilith let out a dry, incredulous laugh. Its flesh, what little remained, was blackened, flaking away in chunks. And yet, beneath that charred ruin, she could already see it: skin regrowing, bones reknitting. It was trying to come back.

“Still, it’s done,” Lilith called out. “One more hit and it’s over. He’s barely holding together.”

Before she could finish the sentence, Koharu was already in motion.

“Oh, shut up! I’m already on it!” she barked, her voice half fury, half triumph. “And for the record, who are you calling a damn amateur, you gloomy little witch? Ugh, forget it! Just die already!”

She raised her hand, and lightning howled in response.

“Type-Zero Electromagnetic Control: RAILGUN!”

The final shot ripped through the air like a thunderclap, a condensed embodiment of rage and divine precision. It struck the Ogre Emperor dead center.

And this time, he didn’t heal.

The explosion was devastating.

Flesh scattered like shrapnel, limbs disintegrated in mid-air, and what remained of the Ogre Emperor was blown across the battlefield in a rain of burning meat. The impact alone sent shockwaves rippling through the ground.

Silence followed.

They all watched the aftermath, eyes locked on the drifting fragments. Waiting.

Five seconds passed.

Then ten.

Fifteen.

Thirty.

Still nothing.

No regeneration. No twitch of life. No dark miracle.

At last, the silence cracked, giving way to a slow, collective exhalation.

“He’s done?” Cordelia asked, breathless.

Lilith nodded. “No mistake. That’s a corpse.”

But before relief could settle in fully, the sound of applause echoed across the field.

“Bravo. Truly, bravo. That was spectacular. Ogre Kings, the Emperor himself, the rest of the horde, all wiped out so cleanly. I must say… you girls are trouble.”

Everyone turned toward the voice.

Cordelia froze in place.

All the color drained from her face, replaced by a cold, clammy pallor. Her entire body locked up, knees trembling. The fear in her eyes was equal parts panic and recognition.

Lilith, by contrast, exhaled long and slow. She lifted both hands slightly, an expression of exasperated resignation clouding her face. She’d seen creatures like this before, too many times while traveling with Ryuto. She knew what they were looking at.

At the edge of the battlefield stood a boy. Or at least, he looked like one.

Short, barely a meter and a half tall. Slim to the point of fragility. He couldn’t have weighed more than forty kilos, and he looked no older than ten.

But sprouting from his head were unmistakable horns, curved and glinting in the light.

Cordelia felt the bile rise in her throat but forced it back down, her voice shaking as she muttered, “So he does exist… Why is it that gut feelings are always right, especially when they’re about nightmares?”

The boy stood there with a pure, childlike grin that was utterly out of place amid the battlefield carnage.

Koharu didn’t waste a second. She said nothing, just reached into her coat and drew her final iron sphere. Her lips curled into a feral smile as she locked eyes with the horned boy.

“This is my last shot,” she muttered. “Body’s got nothing left. But I don’t need more than one.”

Her tone turned razor sharp, wild with resolve.

“You’re no Ogre Emperor. I know your type. You don’t regenerate. That much is in the legends. That’s all I need to end this.”

She raised her hand.

“My Zero-Type pierces anything, from armor to bone, even spirit. You’re gonna pop like a balloon, one limb at a time!”

The railgun fired with a thunderous crack.

Lightning tore through the air, and dust exploded from the impact. The shockwave scattered pebbles and debris for meters in every direction. Wind howled across the field as the strike landed cleanly at the center.

And yet…

As the smoke cleared and the golden haze lifted, Koharu’s jaw dropped.

He stood there.

Untouched.

Not a scratch on him.

Her voice cracked. “No… That was a direct hit. I know it landed. How is he still…”

Lilith sighed deeply, rubbing her temples as if this were the most predictable outcome in the world. “You really are an amateur,” she muttered. “That’s the problem with raw power and no judgment. You think a being with ‘god’ in his title is going to be taken out by a single railgun? He’s not even winded. Also, by the way, that legend you quoted? It’s wrong. He absolutely has regeneration, absurd levels of it.”

Cordelia stepped forward, eyes still locked on the boy. “Lilith.”

“What?”

“If I push harder, burn myself, I can extend berserker mode. Might only get seconds, but it’s something. You got a plan?”

Lilith didn’t answer. She simply shook her head.

“There’s nothing to plan. It wouldn’t matter what we tried. This is like a pack of mantises ganging up on a lion. It’s not just unlikely. It’s impossible.”

For a moment, silence.

The three of them stood rooted, the reality of the situation beginning to settle like a stone in their guts.

And then the boy spoke, smiling all the while.

“Ah, where are my manners?” His voice was light, singsong, almost amused. “I forgot to introduce myself. I am a god, after all.”

Cordelia didn’t even blink. “Yeah, we figured. The aura made that part very clear.”

The boy let out a soft snort, amused by Cordelia’s words.

“The Demon God. That’s the title I’ve been given. In your terms, I rank among the highest of calamities, far beyond the Ogre Emperor you just barely managed to take down. Think of me as several tiers above.”

Cordelia, Lilith, and Koharu stood frozen, their silence stretched taut with dread. The fact that Koharu’s railgun had done nothing, the suffocating weight of spiritual pressure that pulsed from the boy just by standing there, all pointed to a horrifying truth: they were facing a monster far beyond their comprehension.

The three of them had just wiped out hundreds of ogres, including Kings and an Emperor. From the ogres’ perspective, they were mass murderers, indiscriminate reapers who had slaughtered their way through the ranks. If they were captured, no appeal to reason or morality would save them. This was war. And war had no room for pleas.

Koharu still trembled slightly. But Cordelia and Lilith, at least, had made their peace with this reality.

So it was Cordelia who broke the silence, swallowing down bile and steeling her nerves as she glared at the boy.

“So, what now? What are you going to do with us?”

For a moment, the Demon God blinked, as if caught off guard by her bluntness. Then he grinned, delighted.

He tilted his head, tapping his chin with one finger. “Hmm. Well, let’s see. East, west, north, south… every front has collapsed, except this one. The rest of my forces? Completely wiped out. And if I had to point fingers…”

His gaze flicked over the three of them, eyes glinting like blades.

“It’d be your fault, wouldn’t it?”

Cordelia didn’t flinch. “Yeah. So? I asked what you’re planning to do with us.”

He shrugged, as though they were discussing the weather.

The boy nodded solemnly, as though explaining a simple principle to children.

“Correct. You have slaughtered countless underlings of mine. That doesn’t come without… consequences. You will answer for it. However, I am merciful.”

“Merciful?” Cordelia echoed through clenched teeth.

With a precise snap, the boy struck his palm. “Let me ask you something else. Have you ever eaten vegetables preserved in salt?”

“Salted vegetables… You mean pickles?”

“Exactly. Pickles. And do you know why salt draws moisture from the veggies?”

“Well, I grew up in a village,” Cordelia replied, her tone wary. “I understand basic food preservation—from pickles to smoked meats.”

He grinned, as if pleased, but launched into another, more unsettling question. “So do you understand why salt draws water out of vegetables?”

“Um… honestly, I’ve never thought that deeply about it.”

He smiled, almost indulgently, then turned toward Lilith. “You, the Mage. Can you explain?”

Lilith raised an eyebrow. “Osmosis. Water moves from lower to higher solute concentration. That’s why salt draws it out.”

“Excellent.” He flashed a wide grin. “It’s osmosis.”

“I learned that on the road from Ryuto. The laws that govern all things in nature strive for equilibrium. Osmosis, atmospheric pressure, thermal dynamics… they all push things toward balance and create weather, tides, all of nature’s movements.”

Cordelia’s eyes narrowed.

“So, what the hell does osmosis have to do with us?”

The boy leveled his gaze. “Everything. Vegetables are living matter. So are humans.”

“And?”

He leaned in, voice turning cold. “If you don’t hydrate living things properly—if you salt and pack them without providing moisture—they’ll dry up. By osmosis.”

A chill raced down Cordelia’s spine as she realized where this was going.

He lifted a single finger, pointing at them with unnerving calm.

“I’ll have you pickled in salt for a month. Ah, yes, that’s it. The pickling containers I’ll stuff you into will be human coffins. Haha, even I have to admit that’s a brilliant idea. Once you’re dead, there won’t be any burial hassles either. Haha! Hahaha!”

“Human… pickling?”

“I’m quite the neat freak, you see. I’ll replace the coffins with fresh salt every day, so you can rest easy about that. Oh, and after your skin withers, your lips crack, and the life drains from your eyes, if we don’t give you water, it usually takes less than two days.”

After a moment of stunned silence, Cordelia spat out her words with disgust.

“Earlier, you were going on about how merciful you were or something, but where exactly is this so-called mercy?”

The boy clapped his hands together as if he had suddenly remembered. “Ah, that’s what you mean! Your vitality is guaranteed to be exceptional. A month should put you right on the razor’s edge between life and death, don’t you think? Well, as one who reigns supreme among demons, I do have to set an example for the others, so I must punish you.”

“What’s your point?”

“I make it my principle to show respect to capable women. What I want is for you to demonstrate your strength.”

“Strength? What do you mean?”

“You could call it a trial rather than a punishment. And if you don’t break under that trial, I’ll guarantee your survival.”

“Guarantee our survival?”

“If you can prove the superiority of your genetic stock, I’ll grant you special permission to survive as breeding tools for producing half-human, half-demon offspring. Though you’ll spend day and night servicing lustful young demons until you go insane…”

“So even if we endure the salt-pickling trial… No, only after going through all that do we get promoted to playthings.”

I see, so that’s the punchline, Cordelia thought as she shrugged her shoulders.

“Hmm? You look like you have something to say.”

Cordelia spat at the boy, and Lilith raised her middle finger at the same time.

“You’re the lowest kind of scum,” Cordelia hissed, her voice sharp enough to cut glass.

The boy tilted his head, barely flinching as he sidestepped the spit she launched at him, his high, mirthless laughter ringing out to chill the bone.

“Haha! Oh, that’s rich!”

“What the hell’s so funny?” she snapped, glowering.

“‘Scum,’ is it? Say whatever you like. Now’s the time for it, after all. Soon enough, you’ll be the one begging—no, pleading—for me to save you. Over and over again.”

Cordelia’s brow creased, her expression tightening into a snarl. “Beg you? Me? Don’t make me laugh. I’m Cordelia Allston, the Hero of the North. I am the sword of humanity, and I’d sooner die than bow to filth like you.”

The boy sighed, as if disappointed by her answer. “You really don’t get it, do you?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’ve got half of it right. You’ll beg for help. That much is certain. But it won’t be ‘please stop.’” His grin widened, fangs glinting beneath his childlike face. “It’ll be, ‘Please, just end it. Kill me. Let me die.’”

Cordelia stiffened. A cold, crawling dread spread down her spine, wrapping around her like chains of ice.

“That’s right,” the boy whispered, eyes gleaming. “In the place I’m going to send you, death is the only mercy left. It’s the only escape you’ll ever dream of.”

Behind her, Lilith remained stone-faced, but a single bead of sweat trailed down from her temple to her collarbone, betraying the storm within. She didn’t need to say it. Neither of them did.

He means every word.

Cordelia’s grip tightened around her sword. The ring of steel sang in the air as she drew the blade with practiced ease. Beside her, Lilith raised her staff, her stance low, precise.

The boy blinked at them, tilting his head with mock confusion. “Hmm? What’s this? You’re still planning to fight? That’s strange. You understand the gap between us, don’t you? And yet you still want to fight? Well, no matter. I suppose I’ll just have to increase the severity of your punishment. Seems the idea of being pickled in salt didn’t appeal to you.”

“Increase the severity?” Cordelia echoed, her voice tight with disbelief. “What does that even mean?”

A bright, cheerful grin tugged at the corners of the boy’s lips, utterly deranged. “Let’s say I pulverize every bone in your arms and legs. Then, I hang you upside down for a month. And for food and water? Well, we’ll handle that via rectal infusion.”

Cordelia stared blankly. “I’m sorry… What?”

“Confused? Which part didn’t make sense?”

“The part about food and water,” she snapped, her stomach churning.

“Ah, yes. Well, you see, the human body really doesn’t handle being hung upside down very well. Blood pools in the skull, pressure rises, consciousness fades, death follows. But I won’t let you die. Not right away.”

He raised a finger as if delivering a lecture. “I’ll keep you alive with nutrient infusions. Liquids, broths, yogurts—pumped directly into your intestines. Efficient, isn’t it?”

A heavy silence fell. Even Cordelia, hardened by battle, turned pale. Lilith pressed a hand to her lips, struggling against the rising wave of nausea. The two women exchanged a fierce, silent glance.

Cordelia’s eyes burned crimson.

“You really think I’d lie down and let someone like you turn me into a toy?”

Lilith stepped forward, her staff already crackling with raw, golden light. Her voice dropped to a low whisper as she chanted, the air around her beginning to tremble.

“Five seconds,” she murmured. “Buy me five seconds. If I disable every limiter Ryuto placed on me and unleash Golden Roar: Dragus Genocide at full power. Just maybe, we’ll have a shot.”

But the moment the words left her lips, the boy was gone without a sound or shift in the wind. Only a whisper of air passed before he stood smiling behind Cordelia, delivering a knife-hand strike to her spinal column that crumpled her where she stood.

“You’re truly out of touch with reality. To begin with, this incomplete Hero, still in the midst of her growth, couldn’t even delay me for five seconds. And,” the boy continued, “that Golden Roar: Dragus Genocide of yours, that ultimate magic you fired today? It certainly had tremendous power, but do you think that it could deal effective damage to me? I am, after all, the apex of the demon race. I’m quite confident in my toughness and durability.”

“What you saw was an incomplete roar. That wasn’t truly golden,” Lilith managed to say.

Upon hearing Lilith’s words, the boy picked up a fist-sized stone that had fallen at his feet.

“Oh, is that so? Well, doesn’t matter either way.” With a sinister grin, he casually threw the small stone.

The stone curved through the air at an exquisite angle, grazing Lilith’s jaw. Her brain rattled from the impact, forcibly severing her consciousness as she collapsed on the spot.

“Originally, I was told to devastate this city before retreating, but things have deviated quite significantly from expectations. Well, I did capture two A-rank equivalent adventurers as prisoners, so let’s call it quits for today.” The boy hoisted Cordelia over his shoulder, then walked toward the fallen Lilith.

Without ceremony, he slung Lilith over the same shoulder, layering her atop Cordelia. The boy turned on his heel, shifting direction from the city toward the forest. He began walking briskly with both women slung over his shoulder.

“Hey, you! Are you just going to ignore me?” Koharu called out.

The boy replied with laughter. “Ah, I have no use for small fry.”

Koharu’s face went blank with shock. “Small fry? Small fry, you said? Who exactly?”

The boy snapped his fingers. At that exact moment, Koharu’s knees buckled, and she collapsed to the ground.

“Ah, huh? I’m sure I was channeling a god just a moment ago. What in the world is happening to me right now?”

“You’ve dispersed the spirit energy dwelling within you now that I’ve scattered the divine aura you tried to channel,” the boy commented, his voice smooth and contemptuous. “Call it what you will, a god or a mountain spirit, but it doesn’t change the fact that you couldn’t even wield it. If you could, you’d be fighting me for maybe thirty seconds rather than collapsing before I even flick my finger.”

Cordelia’s brow furrowed. “Scattered my divine aura?”

He continued stepping closer with a horrifyingly casual confidence for one so tiny. “Your skill level is… mediocre. Yet your bloodline is solid. Divine potential does run in your family. But frankly, I don’t need you. If you bear any demon or ogre blood, the gods themselves would deny you power, so to me, you’re still just useless.”

With that, he pivoted and strode back toward the forest, but Koharu wasn’t one to drop so easily.

She rose to her feet again, her voice trembling. “Wait! Please, wait!”

He turned back, annoyed yet intrigued by her persistence.

“You don’t just want mercy. You want to understand, don’t you?”

She nodded, spirit unbroken.

“Fine,” he said with a theatrical sigh. “Here’s the deal. I’m letting you live, for now, but you exist to witness my debut, a Demon God’s first battle. You’ll be my herald, feeding your people stories about me and spreading word among your leaders.”

He paused, then added with a smirk, “And what’s the point of me pausing… if you expect a fight?”

Koharu closed her eyes as electricity sparked in her black hair, static lifting it momentarily before gravity reclaimed it.

“You’re right,” she admitted, voice steady. “Manifesting power like this twice in one short span breaks the rules of divine beings or demons, since there are limits. You can’t unleash your godly form again so soon. Not for days.”

The boy grinned, though curiosity glinted in his eyes. “Ah, seeing a loophole?”

“Perhaps there is one,” Koharu said.

He raised his brow, halfway amused, halfway warning. “Oh? A method?”

“It’s important to understand something,” Koharu said quietly, her voice trembling, but not from fear. “The gods I call don’t help me out of kindness. They do it because of an ancient pact. Lord Mikazuchi, the Thunder God, aids me only because he’s bound to, however reluctantly.”

The Demon God tilted his head, intrigued but unimpressed. “And?”

“Breaking that pact, defying the rules of descent, is forbidden, yes. But forbidden doesn’t mean impossible.”

He scoffed, folding his arms. “You’d force a high-tier spiritual being to violate divine law for your own desperation? Do you even understand what that means? These spirits withdrew from the physical world for a reason. When they lend their power, even briefly, it distorts the balance. If one of them intervenes too often, or too soon after a previous descent, they’re punished. That’s the rule. One you’re about to break.”

“I know,” she whispered. “But I can’t back down. Not this time. I won’t.”

Because deep down, Koharu already understood what had truly scarred her. It wasn’t just loss. It was the shame of inaction.

The night her village was annihilated, she hadn’t fought or even screamed. She hadn’t done anything. While the people she loved bled and burned, she’d hidden, curled in a dark, dusty cellar, too paralyzed by fear to move, to even cry.

She’d told herself she’d been powerless. That the seal on her spirit arts had stripped her of strength. But that wasn’t the whole truth. Even without divine power, she could’ve done something, just as the other villagers had, the men swinging farming tools at monsters three times their size while the women—mothers, grandmothers—used their bodies to shield the children.

But she’d just sat there. Shivering. Waiting.

And yet, her hands had still worked. She could’ve thrown herself in front of someone. She could’ve stood. She could have moved.

They had died to protect her because she was the shrine maiden, supposed to be the future of their bloodline and the vessel worthy of godhood. They’d died with that belief in their hearts.

And she had let them, but never again.

Even now, Koharu couldn’t lie to herself as she remembered the collective agreement reached by the elders and villagers after long, solemn discussion. If her role was simply to survive, then so be it, for a shrine maiden’s duty was to endure and carry the gods into the next generation.

Yet when she realized she couldn’t summon the divine because the seal cut her off from the gods just as the enemy arrived at their gates, her body had simply gone numb. Her thoughts had turned to static, so she hadn’t fought back or even asked why when they led her to the underground chamber. She had run not by choice but because someone else told her to, leaving her no option.

“I guess that’s what it all comes down to, doesn’t it?” she murmured, barely audible.

Somewhere deep within her mind stirred a familiar voice, calm and powerful.

Koharu Saegusa. Is that what eats at you? That your house fell into ruin, and now the world sees you as weak?

That’s part of it, she admitted.

Or is it the demons who destroyed your village? The monsters still running loose across the world, unpunished? Is that what you can’t forgive?

That too.

Then this is my final question, the god said, his voice like the rumble of a storm. What is it you truly can’t forgive?

Koharu inhaled sharply. Her pulse thundered in her ears. This wasn’t a god’s judgment; it was her own.

And for the first time in her life, she answered not with thoughts, but with her voice. Her truth.

“The one I can’t forgive… is myself!” she screamed. “If I let this moment slip away, if I stay a coward, if I don’t fight now, I’ll stay a loser for the rest of my life!”

So please, give me your strength!

Her plea cracked the sky.

A surge of violet lightning exploded around her, illuminating the battlefield in blinding arcs of raw divine energy. The blast radius alone covered over ten meters, scorching the earth beneath her feet. Thunder boomed like the wrath of the heavens. At its center, Koharu let out a defiant, unrestrained cry that shook the air itself.

“Divine Warrior, descend once more: Take-Mikazuchi!”

Lightning roared across the heavens as Koharu bellowed the incantation, her voice raw with determination. Violet arcs of power surged outward in all directions, distorting the air with divine wrath. The boy—no, the so-called Demon God—raised an eyebrow, his expression one of genuine surprise that quickly soured into a frown.

“A human,” he muttered, incredulous. “A mere human, drawing upon a high spirit’s power twice in one day?”

But then, with a shake of his head, he dismissed the thought.

“No matter. It’s idiotic, really. Calling down that much spiritual mass twice in such a short span? You’re flirting with death. Hell, forget death. Your mind could shatter from the strain. And you know that, don’t you? You’re a priestess, after all.”

Koharu let out a bitter laugh, nodding faintly. “Yeah. I know.”

The boy folded his arms, tilting his head. “So tell me then, what’s the point? You’ve already tried your strongest move. And I’m still standing here, untouched.”

But she only smiled with a dangerous, confident calm.

“If you’re going to mock me,” she said, slowly raising her hand, “then do it after you’ve dealt with this.”

Above them, the sky shimmered.

It wasn’t a flash of lightning; it was a storm of spears. Thousands of radiant lances hung suspended in the air, spanning a radius of nearly five hundred meters. They gleamed with divine energy, each one thrumming with the latent wrath of Take-Mikazuchi.

The boy’s grin returned, wide and sharp, like a cat playing with its food.

“Well now,” he chuckled, narrowing his eyes. “That does look fun. But just so you know… I am the apex of demonkind. Toughness and durability are kind of my thing. Can’t wait to see your face when none of them even scratch me.”

And then they fell.

The first wave, ten spears, came down like bolts from Olympus. He didn’t move. The next ten followed, delayed just enough. Smoke and debris flared up around him.

When the dust cleared, he stood completely unharmed. Not a hair out of place.

With a sneering smile, he looked up at her and shrugged. “That’s all you’ve got? Because so far, your precious divine lances haven’t even left a scratch.”

Koharu didn’t flinch. She met his gaze with a proud, unyielding smirk.

“Don’t start bragging just yet,” she shot back. “There are still nearly a thousand left to go.”

Koharu raised her palm once more. Another ten spears of divine lightning hurled themselves down from the heavens, aimed directly at the smirking boy.

“Oh? What’s this, still just ten at a time?” he taunted, letting the energy crash around him without flinching. “Don’t tell me that’s all you can manage. Honestly, this is starting to drag.”

“Then shut your smug mouth and wait till the end, you cocky little bastard!” Koharu barked, her glare molten. “Keep smirking like that while you can. I’m gonna wipe that grin right off your face.”

The boy’s smile only widened, gleaming with anticipation.

“Hah! I’m actually looking forward to that. I want to see what kind of face you make when every last one of your precious thousand spears shatters against me.”

“Oh, you’ll see a face all right,” she growled, raising her hand again. “Just make sure yours is still in one piece when it happens.”

She cast again. Ten spears descended, then ten more—each wave staggered by mere seconds, a relentless tide of divine wrath crashing down one after another. Explosions of thunder and dust rippled through the battlefield, the air thick with ozone and fury.

And yet, the boy remained untouched.

The minutes crawled by in a haze of light and sound. The storm of spears had stripped the sky bare, leaving only smoke and scorched earth in its wake. At the five-minute mark, only ten remained.

Still, the boy stood amid the wreckage, not a single thread of his clothes out of place. He dusted off his shoulder with exaggerated nonchalance.

“Well,” he drawled, as if bored. “I’ve let this farce go on long enough. All this effort, and not even a scratch? What did you think would happen, honestly?”

Koharu didn’t answer, her face unreadable as the final volley soared. Ten spears of thunder crashed down in a desperate cascade of divine retribution that cracked the sky and billowed smoke, but when it cleared, he was still there, laughing.

“Is that it?” he asked, spreading his arms in mock invitation. “Are we done here?”

His grin widened to a wolfish sneer.

“You sure talked big. Two divine descents, all that bluster, and for what? Five minutes of nonstop attacks, and you didn’t so much as bruise me. Not even a scuff. You’re all noise. All of this was completely pointless!”

He laughed, a shrill and grating peal of cruelty that echoed like mockery through the air.

But then, Koharu laughed too, not out of humor but out of something far darker that he hadn’t noticed yet.

“Well, well, thanks for playing along like the good little idiot you are,” Koharu sneered. “You actually stood there and took every last hit, just like I hoped. What a complete dumbass.”

As her words dropped like a hammer, the electric charge vanished, and her hair fell limp around her shoulders, no longer bristling with static.

The boy narrowed his eyes. “You ended the descent?”

“I did,” she said brightly, her tone chipper. “You were right earlier. About the toll it takes on the body. I didn’t see any reason to waste more of my strength once my job was done.”

He stared at her, finally rattled. “What job?”

Koharu raised her hand in front of her chest and flashed a grin.

“Oh, that’s right! You asked what someone like me could possibly do, didn’t you?” Then, with a dramatic flourish, she spun her thumb in a loop before pointing it sharply downward at the earth. “I stalled for time. That’s it. That was my job. And you? You stood there and tanked my weakest spell over and over for the sake of my plan. So thanks for that.”

Thud.

A sharp, meaty impact cracked through the air as the boy’s head snapped forward, a blur of motion catching him square in the back of the skull.

Koharu didn’t even flinch.

The boy—the Demon God—rocketed face-first into the ground with a deafening crash, dirt and debris exploding outward as a crater bloomed beneath him.

Planted head-down with his legs sticking stiffly into the air like some tragicomic monument was the Demon God himself, rammed into the ground like a broken nail.

“Well done, Koharu,” a calm voice said behind her. “I didn’t think you’d hold out this long. Honestly, I expected you to fold once Cordelia and Lilith went down.”

Koharu let out a shaky laugh, pride and exhaustion in her voice. “You told me, remember? You said you believed in me. That I could handle it. So I did.”

The newcomer grinned with a sunny, unshakable warmth. “That does sound like something I’d say. But you’re at your limit now, right? I’ll take it from here.”

And then, at last, the Demon God rose, dragging himself from the crater with a ragged cough, blood dripping from one nostril. His expression twisted, somewhere between outrage and disbelief.

“A sucker punch? Me? Bleeding? Who the hell are you?”

The boy who stood before him didn’t flinch. He cocked his head, scratched at his chin, and after a moment, shrugged.

“Who, me?” he said, eyes twinkling.

“I’m just your average, run-of-the-mill Villager, who happens to be the strongest man in the world.”

Koharu collapsed where she stood, her legs giving out beneath her like a marionette with its strings cut. She sat dazed on the torn earth, eyes fixed on the back of the boy now standing between her and the Demon God.

“But seriously, are you really going to be okay?” she asked quietly, suspicion threading her voice.

She knew full well that Ryuto Maclaine was anything but ordinary. That was precisely why she had been willing to play her part in the desperate gamble—to burn her body, draw on divine power a second time, and hold out just long enough for him to arrive.

But now that he was here, her faith began to waver.

Because standing opposite Ryuto wasn’t just some strong monster. It was the monster. An entity whose mere presence warped the air with spiritual pressure, whose name could justifiably be uttered in the same breath as the word Demon Lord.

He was an apex threat, an existence marked for classification as a Catastrophe-Class, a being so overwhelmingly powerful that nations would be advised to flee rather than fight.

And Ryuto? He was a student. A misfit who spent his days lounging at the bottom of the academy rankings, playing the fool. Sure, there were rumors, whispers that he was stronger than Cordelia Allston herself, but still…

Koharu clenched her fists, doubt rising like bile. This time, maybe the enemy’s just too far beyond us.

Still, her eyes stayed locked on Ryuto’s back as he rolled his shoulders and cracked his knuckles with a sharp pop-pop-pop.

※※※

“Well then…”

I, Ryuto Maclaine, rolled my shoulders and cracked my knuckles, the sharp pop of joints echoing in the silent air. My gaze slid slowly from the boy’s sandaled feet up to his delicate-looking face. He stood there, arms loose at his sides, expression unreadable. He had no armor or visible weapons, just a childlike frame and a maddening air of superiority.

“From what I can see, you’re not carrying any weapons, and your gear’s as light as it gets,” I said casually. “And yet, that kick I landed earlier did enough to draw blood. Which means you’re some kind of unarmed combat specialist, huh?”

He tilted his head slightly, as if amused by the observation. But I didn’t need his confirmation. I could already tell by the way his center of gravity shifted with each breath.

Still, he was misunderstanding something. Badly.

But that was fine, so I let him.

That earlier kick had given me a decent read on the density and resistance of his body, and while he was ridiculously tough, he wasn’t invincible.

I clenched my fists again, the skin tightening over my knuckles.

“Well,” I said with a smirk, “how about we warm up a little?”

The moment the words left my mouth, I lunged with raw force rather than feints or fancy footwork. I cocked my fist back and hurled myself forward, driving a straight right punch at the Demon God’s face.

He saw it coming. Hell, he welcomed it. His lips curled in delight, and instead of dodging, he dropped his head and met my punch with a counter headbutt.

BOOM.

Fist and skull collided with a sound like thunder cracking through the earth. The shockwave rippled through the air, hurling us both backward. I skidded across the ground, heels digging into the dirt to kill my momentum. The Demon God did the same, landing with a spray of loose stone beneath his boots.

“That one was a perfect draw,” he said, voice laced with exhilaration. “This might actually be fun. I may look like a kid, but I’m a demon, you know. Brawling’s in my blood. I’m a straight-up power type.”

“A headbutt that matches my full-power punch,” I muttered, adjusting my stance. “Okay then.”

He didn’t wait for a signal.

This time, the Demon God made the first move, charging in with speed that shattered the sound barrier. The whip-crack of displaced air chased his right hook, a blur of motion and malice.

I answered with my forehead.

We clashed mid-air again, fist to skull, and neither of us budged as our feet dug into the dirt like anchors. A beat passed, then another, before we both broke into wide, savage grins.

“For the first time in my life,” he said, eyes gleaming, “I think I’ve found someone I can go all out against.”

“Good,” I said, settling into a stance. “Let’s see how far this slugfest can go.”

He reared back—way back. His whole body twisted like a pitcher winding up for a fastball, his torso coiling with every ounce of muscle and magic he could muster. It was an absurd, telegraphed opening that screamed to be exploited, but I didn’t move.

I wasn’t about to ruin this with a cheap shot or a dodge because I knew exactly what was coming: a full-force, dead-center right straight just like mine.

I met it head-on, and as if fate itself had choreographed it, his punch drove straight into the bridge of my nose.

“Damn. That’s a hell of a hit.”

I clenched my jaw and dropped my center of gravity, forcing myself to stay upright. The impact rang through my skull like a gong, and a warm trickle of blood slid from my nostrils. The taste of iron flooded my mouth.

“My turn, right?”

He gave a calm nod, settling into position.

I crouched slowly and deliberately, not to bait him but to let him see it coming. I loaded every muscle in my legs, compressing like a spring, then snapped upward. The punch exploded from below like a cannon.

It was called a frog-leap uppercut for a reason.

The added momentum from my jump, amplified by the torque of my shoulders, sent my fist rocketing into the Demon God’s jaw. The blow connected with a meaty crack, and he was airborne, lifted clean off the ground. He spun in the air like a rag doll, twisting mid-flight to stick a landing. Or so it seemed.

His feet touched down with surprising grace, but then his knees buckled, and he nearly collapsed.

“Legs giving out already? You good?”

He flashed a strained smile, teeth red with blood. “Coming from the guy with a nosebleed, that’s rich.”

We laughed, both bloodied and smiling like maniacs, before closing the gap again with flexing fists and cracking joints. The next round began.

He came in low with a vicious body shot that I absorbed with a grunt to counter with a high roundhouse kick. He retaliated with a sweeping low kick to my thigh, but I powered through to grab him around the waist and slam him backward in a clean, brutal back-drop.

What followed was a pure slugfest where we traded strikes with reckless abandon and no guards, every hit thrown with full intent to kill.

“Shit, you hit like a wrecking ball,” he muttered, staggering from a clean shot to the gut.

“Glad to hear it,” I said, just before his hand latched onto my skull in a brutal iron claw. With a snarl, he hoisted me overhead and slammed me headfirst into the ground like a meteor, opening a crater several meters wide, the impact sending plumes of dust billowing into the air. Dirt rained down in clumps as I rose slowly to my feet, steady and unbroken.

“You’re tough. No, seriously tough,” the Demon God mused, his voice rich with amusement and disbelief. “You’ve taken my full-powered strikes head-on and all you’ve got to show for it is a bloody nose.”

Then, without warning, he began to offer a measured, echoing applause that cut through the settling dust.

“Applause? The hell’s that about?”

“I’m giving you praise,” he said, his eyes narrowing with a gleam that was part admiration, part intrigue. “For being such a rare specimen. A human who’s climbed to the absolute pinnacle of martial arts. Someone whose talent and effort deserve recognition.”

Great. He’s got me all wrong. Not that I cared enough to correct him.

“But seriously, who are you?” he asked, tilting his head slightly, as if genuinely puzzled. “I’ve never heard of anyone with your kind of power living in this area.”

“Just a random Villager passing through,” I muttered with a self-deprecating shrug.

The Demon God snorted, amused by my reply.

“And what’s your take on this?” he asked suddenly.

“Take on what?”

“We’re both power types. Both built like tanks. If we keep pounding away like this, a double knockout seems like the most likely outcome. Unless…”

“Unless?”

A slow, entertained grin spread across his face as he fixed me with a mocking stare.

“Unless we account for one small detail: the regeneration ability possessed by high-ranking demons. With that in play, your chances of winning drop to zero.”

Yeah. I knew that going in. Still chose to stick around for the brawl.

And honestly? I was surprised.

I hadn’t expected anyone in the human realm to go blow-for-blow with me in a straight-up slugfest. Yet here he was, holding his ground.

“Fair enough,” I said, brushing the dust off my shoulder. “I’ll admit it, you’re tougher than I thought.”

“Did you not hear me before?” he chuckled, voice laced with condescension. “It’s not just toughness. My regeneration makes me leagues beyond even the Demon Emperor. You’ve got no path to victory left.”

“That so? I guess we won’t know until we try.”

The Demon God laughed with deep, rumbling entertainment, apparently thinking I was joking.

“Ah, yes. That was a good fight. It’s been ages since I got to go all out,” the Demon God said with a languid roll of his shoulders, satisfaction dripping from his voice. “Unfortunate for you, of course, given my regeneration and all that, but I still enjoyed myself. And because of that, I have a proposal.”

I narrowed my eyes. “A proposal?”

“You drew my blood,” he continued, his grin curling wider. “That’s not something I take lightly. Your genetics are exceptional. Ideal for breeding a hybrid between demon and human.”

I stared at him, blank. “Come again?”

He puffed out his chest with pride, as though announcing a royal decree. “Why don’t you join me in the Demon King’s domain? I’ll give you a harem.”

A chill scraped down my spine as I turned, only to immediately regret it. Behind me loomed a horde of demons whose grotesque forms barely clung to humanoid shape, their twisted flesh and monstrous eyes making it impossible to tell male from female.

He wants me to make children with… that?

“This has to be a joke,” I muttered under my breath before meeting his gaze with a flat glare. “Yeah, no. That’s gonna be a hard pass.”

The Demon God let out a dramatic sigh and shrugged, as though genuinely let down. “Pity. I thought it’d be the easiest way to bring you in alive, but I suppose if you won’t cooperate, then killing you here might be the only option left.”

He smiled with a casual calm, utterly devoid of empathy. “Naturally, you’ve forfeited any claim to hospitality by turning down the offer.”

I raised an eyebrow, incredulous. “Wait, you were actually planning to treat me as a guest?”

To my surprise, he nodded without hesitation. “With genes like yours? Of course, I was. From the perspective of demonkind, you’re a once-in-a-generation prize. This era of glory won’t last forever, and I intend to claim my successor while I still draw breath.”

I crossed my arms, voice dry. “Considering this whole incident is on the level of a catastrophic mutation outbreak, I guess I can’t say your reasoning is completely out there.”

“Exactly,” he said, gesturing grandly with one clawed hand. “That’s why I was willing to grant you special treatment, but you cast that fortune aside.”

His tone darkened as he glanced toward the two motionless figures lying in the dirt, his voice dipping into something far colder.

“And like those two, you’ll be dragged back in chains. Not as a guest or even a prisoner, but as livestock.”

Come to think of it, Cordelia and Lilith were still unconscious and looked like they were about to be taken.

“Livestock, huh?” I muttered, eyes narrowing. “And what exactly were you planning to do to them?”

The Demon God tilted his head, a casual smile playing on his lips.

“Hmm, good question. I suppose it’s only fair to give you the same experience they’re about to receive.” He clapped his hands together lightly, like he was reading off a dinner menu. “First, we’ll shatter the bones in both your arms and legs. Then, hang you upside down.”

I stared in silence, but he wasn’t finished.

“For the next month, your only sustenance will be administered rectally, with water, liquid nutrients, or perhaps yogurt pumped in straight through your anus to bypass the stomach. Direct absorption through the small intestine. Efficient, right?”

My voice came out low and cold. “And after a month of that?”

He grinned wider, like a butcher admiring his work. “In their case? They’ll serve as breeding stock, kept alive and productive, day and night. As for you, well, it’ll be something similar since the lower-tier oni don’t exactly understand species differences when they’re in heat. I imagine it’ll be quite the ordeal, but I do hope you’ll endure. Hahaha! Hahaha!”

The Demon God burst into manic laughter, his body shaking with the force of it.

I raised my head slowly. My voice came out like a blade drawn in the dark.

“What did you just say?”

“Hm?” He cocked an ear, still grinning. “Didn’t quite catch that.”

“I asked…” I stepped forward, voice rising with quiet fury, “What the hell did you just say you were going to do to Cordelia and Lilith?”

In an instant, Excalibur flashed into existence from the void, and with a single fluid motion, I struck before he could react.

“A sword?” the Demon God gasped, eyes wide. “Where did—”

He stopped as blood erupted from his right arm like a geyser.

He stared, dumbfounded, at the stump below his elbow. The hand that had been there moments ago was now lying in the dirt, twitching feebly.

“My… My hand…?” His voice trembled. “One strike… It’s on the ground… W-What…? How… is this… possible…?”

He gawked at the severed limb, lips moving silently as his brain failed to catch up.

I stepped toward him, my voice cutting through the moment like a cold wind.

“Oh, and one more thing,” I said, leveling my blade. “You seem to think I’m just some thick-headed brawler with nothing but muscle and grit.”

My eyes locked onto his.

“Hate to disappoint you—” I swung the blade into a ready stance “—but I’m a speed-type swordsman.”

“Wha…? Huh? Wha…?” he stammered, eyes darting wildly.

I showed no mercy.

Not anymore.

“Upside down, was it?” I said, voice cold and calm.

“Upside down…?” the Demon God echoed dumbly, his expression blank with confusion.

“For you,” I clarified, stepping forward with deliberate menace. “That was the punishment you had in mind for Cordelia and Lilith, wasn’t it? So it’s only fair you get the same treatment.”

His brow furrowed. “W-What?”

I gave him a thin, humorless smile. “Don’t worry. I’m merciful. No slow death or drawn-out torment. Once you’re hanging, I’ll kill you quickly.”

“Huh?”

Before he could react, I slashed again in a brilliant arc of light that sent his left thumb exploding off in a spray of crimson.

“W-What… Why… Why isn’t it regenerating?”

That was the first time fear crept into his eyes.

“It’s simple,” I said, raising my blade just slightly. “My sword’s not ordinary. It stops regeneration.”

His lips trembled. “Wait… don’t tell me… Is that… a god-slaying… Damn it! I let my guard down!”

I grinned slowly and mercilessly.

“So, upside down it is.” And then, still smiling, I tilted my head and added, “Let’s start with your limbs. Mind if I cut them off?”

“Cut off my limbs?” His voice faltered, but then he let out a low, bitter chuckle. “Fine. My right arm’s out of commission. But I think you’ll be a little surprised by this.”

With a fleshy squelch, four new muscled and clawed arms burst from his back.

“Asura, huh?” I muttered, memories from my days in Japan stirring at the sight.

The Demon God gave an approving nod. “Exactly. And now I won’t be holding back. No more talk of taking you alive. I’ll grind you into paste right here.”

“Sure,” I said, rolling my neck with a sharp crack. “Come at me. I’ll give you a warmup.”

My calm clearly struck a nerve. His face twisted with anger, brows pulling tight.

“You arrogant little—!”

With the right arm already severed, the Demon God now had five functional limbs. He came at me fast.

First strike, a left hook.

I ducked, letting the blow whistle past my cheek.

“Persistent bastard,” I muttered, already sliding behind him.

With that many arms, this was going to be a pain.

But I wasn’t exactly planning to make it easy for him either.

I slashed twice in a perfect X, a motion so fluid that the sound of severed flesh hitting the ground followed instantly.

Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud.

All four of the newly sprouted arms dropped to the dirt, twitching uselessly.

Only then did the Demon God seem to realize I was already behind him.

“Huh?” he gasped, eyes wide, expression vacant.

“You really misunderstood something back during our little brawl,” I said coolly, straightening from my stance. “I was letting you hit me and playing along, because that’s the mood you set.”

“Huh?”

He stood there frozen, blinking like he couldn’t quite process my words.

I sighed. “Okay, let me dumb it down for you.”

He still didn’t move, so I gave him the breakdown he clearly needed.

“In human terms, it’s like a frontline warrior with a tower shield trading punches with a backline rogue. And the rogue still holds his own.”

The Demon God blinked again. Then slowly, his eyes widened in dawning horror.

“You seriously didn’t get it until now?” I said, cocking my head. “Man, your brain’s even duller than I thought.”

His face went pale. Completely drained of color.

Then, in a sudden burst of panic, he started shouting with a cracking voice.

“Wait! Wait! Wait, wait, wait, wait!”

“Hm?”

He was crying now. Actual tears rolled down his cheeks as he spoke, desperation thick in his voice.

“Just… Just give me a moment! Please, hear me out for a second!”

I shrugged. “All right. I’ll listen.”

Relief washed over his face. He let out a shaky breath, clearly grasping for anything that might save him.

“I said earlier that I’d welcome you as a guest. Remember that?”

“I remember,” I replied evenly.

He lowered his gaze with a solemn, pitiful expression.

“I see it now. I finally understand. You and I, we’re not even on the same stage.”

“Not the same stage?” I echoed.

He nodded slowly, lips trembling. “Right. You’re in a different league entirely. That sword you wield must be a god-slayer, right?” the Demon God said quietly, tension simmering beneath his voice. “I can’t think of any other skill that could block my regeneration.”

I gave a casual shrug. “If you hadn’t figured that out by now, you’re not much of a god.”

He scowled, but it came off more petulant than threatening. “You’re unbelievably rude, you know that?”

“Yeah,” I said, deadpan. “The Dragon King said the same.”

But then he grinned. Not the smug, condescending kind I was used to from him. This one was sharp, brimming with glee. A dangerous grin that made something deep in my gut twist.

“Thanks for the distraction,” he said, his voice as smooth as polished glass. “I’m fully charged now.”

“What?”

He met my confusion with a serene smile. “This skill… Well, it’s not something you use mid-battle. It takes time to align every ounce of power and every nerve in my body for full synchronization. But now? It’s ready.”

Even before he finished speaking, I could feel a dreadful pressure rolling off him like an impossibly vast stormfront, the malignant energy radiated from its core so thick it distorted the air itself.

“So why show your hand?” I asked, frowning. “Why let me know you’re about to fire?”

He burst into unhinged laughter, echoing across the broken earth.

“Ha! Hahaha! That’s easy. It’s unavoidable. A wide-area bombardment. There’s nowhere to run!”

I sighed. “Yeah. I figured.”

Then he opened his mouth, and everything changed.

It stretched wider than humanly possible, jaw unhinging like a monster from a nightmare. Particles of energy began swirling toward him, drawn into his lungs like a black hole inhaling light. The world trembled under the pressure, the wind roaring away from him in streaks of shimmering power.

This wasn’t just an attack. It was an annihilation event.

And with the confidence of a creature convinced of its own supremacy, he roared the name of the technique:

“Demon God Howl: Big Bang Impact!”

His expression was perfectly calm, almost serene, as if he were merely reciting a prayer. And why wouldn’t he be? If that thing hit, it would obliterate everything behind me in a cone nearly twenty kilometers wide. A hundred and thirty degrees of total erasure.

Insanity given form.

Too bad it wasn’t going to touch me.

I let out a soft chuckle, raising my right palm toward the incoming energy as if reaching for a breeze.

“Lord of Gluttony: Beelzebub.”

A blinding torrent of energy erupted from the Demon God’s mouth, howling through the air like a storm of light and fury. It tore toward me, a beam dense enough to melt mountains and crack the sky, unstoppable by any ordinary means.

But it never touched me.

Every last particle of that attack vanished the moment it reached my outstretched palm, absorbed and devoured as if the universe itself had swallowed it whole.

“A high-density energy blast, huh?” I murmured, glancing at my hand as the last remnants of light disappeared. “Yeah, if I’d taken that directly, it probably would’ve hurt. But see, attacks like that? This guy loves ‘em. Absolute favorite.”

Across from me, the Demon God stared in horror. “W-What…? Huh…? No, wait, that was… That was my Demon God Howl… What just… What just happened?”

He dropped to his knees like his body had given up. Shaking, slack-jawed, he mumbled as the truth began to sink in. “No wounds… Not even singed… It didn’t miss. It wasn’t blocked. It was just… swallowed? My strongest attack… Gone?”

I didn’t bother answering. With quiet finality, I slid Excalibur back into its sheath. The click of steel against scabbard rang out like a death knell.

“Well then,” I said, stepping forward, my voice steady, ice-cold. “I believe it’s time to hang you.”

Something in his expression broke as panic bloomed in his eyes, realizing exactly what came next.

“Wait! Wait, wait, wait, please wait!” he shouted, scrabbling backward across the ground, desperation seizing his voice.

He’d finally learned how to beg. Shame the timing was off.

“Oh, I’m not waiting,” I said flatly, already raising my hand. I turned, motioning toward Cordelia and Lilith, still unconscious and vulnerable, then leveled a glare back at him sharp enough to draw blood. “You’re going to experience exactly what you had planned for them.”

His face went ghost-white. He choked out something halfway between a gasp and a sob.

“W-What? N-No, you don’t mean—”

“I’m merciful,” I said, smiling without warmth. “You did say you were willing to treat me as a guest. Even if that was a lie, the offer counts for something. So no… I’m not that angry.”

I took another step closer, watching him with cold precision.

“Truth is, I didn’t even feel the urge to kill you until you mentioned Cordelia and Lilith.”

That landed like a hammer. His eyes flickered with fragile hope, his voice trembling as he grasped at the words.

“T-Then… does that mean… you’ll spare me? You’ll let me live?”

I tilted my head slightly. “Personally? I could forgive you. Under the right conditions.”

His entire face lit up, tears streaming freely now, not from pain but from sheer, pathetic relief.

“R-Really?! You mean it?! You’ll actually—?!”

“I’ll give you twenty seconds,” I said.

I glanced over at Cordelia and Lilith, still unconscious.

“So if you want to beg for your life,” I said, turning back to the Demon God, “ask them.”

“Huh?” His expression went blank. For a few seconds, he just stood there, unblinking.

And then it hit him.

The realization cracked through his facade like a hammer. Panic surged back into his limbs, and he dropped to his knees, snot and tears mixing into a pitiful mess as he shouted at the top of his lungs.

“P-Please! C-Cordelia-san! Lilith-san! Help me, please!”

His voice was shrill and desperate, half bawling, half pleading, straining to reach the two women lying still behind me. And then, he turned to me with a whimper, his tone shifting to one of quiet, pathetic yearning.

But of course, Cordelia and Lilith didn’t respond.

How could they? They were both unconscious.

Twenty seconds ticked by, and the Demon God looked up at me with eyes full of hope and dread, silently begging for a reprieve.

I gave him a casual shrug. “Tough luck. They’re out cold. Can’t really answer you.”

He visibly deflated, but I wasn’t quite finished.

“Tell you what,” I added. “I’ll give you one last chance.”

He jumped on it like a starving piranha, eyes shining.

“A c-c-chance?!”

“You’re confident in your defense, right?”

He nodded so hard it looked like his head might fly off; first up and down, then side to side, not even sure how to answer properly in his panic.

I mirrored his readiness, gripping Excalibur and pulling it back in a full-power swing.

“Then take it. Survive this hit, and I’ll let you go.”

His eyes went wide. “T-T-That’s… That’s insane! That’s… No, I can’t. That’s impossible!”

Too late.

Excalibur came down with merciless force, the blade meeting his face in a clean, brutal arc that took the upper and lower jaw.

His scream came out in a pitiful, wheezing sputter, like air escaping a balloon.

With a grotesque, boneless thud, the Demon God collapsed. His body twitched violently as it hit the ground with the brain gone and the lights out.

I clicked my tongue and rubbed a hand through my hair, muttering the last line under my breath. “Damn it. Killed him before I could hang him.”

Epilogue

A formal investiture was arranged in recognition of the Ogre subjugation.

In the aftermath of their Demon God’s death, the remaining ogres lost all will to fight. Leaderless and broken, they scattered deep into the forest, fleeing in disarray. Later, a massive extermination campaign was organized, comprising the surviving knights of Sashimimasu, a handful of elite S-rank adventurers, and an overwhelming joint force. The forest was burned to ash.

The smoke from that campaign choked the skies above the fortress city of Sashimimasu for weeks. It was said to have blanketed the city in haze thick enough to sour one’s lungs.

The scale of the mobilization was staggering, far beyond the resources of a single nation. Every neighboring country had poured in funds and sent its prized adventurers. With multiple sightings of both Ogre Kings and even an Ogre Emperor-class creature, no one considered the response excessive. Rumors spread that if the strike team failed, a full-scale, world-backed extermination force was already being assembled in secret.

But that was someone else’s problem.

Right now, we’d been summoned to the royal capital: Vermishelm.

We were currently inside a palace about twenty kilometers on foot from the Altena Magic Academy. The great hall, where the throne sat, was gleaming white marble from floor to ceiling, immaculate and overbearingly pristine.

A long, plush crimson carpet stretched the length of the chamber. Gilded chandeliers sparkled above us, their delicate frames studded with gemstones in every color imaginable. Even the furniture pressed up against the walls—the stuff no one was supposed to look at—radiated artistic value. You didn’t need to be a connoisseur to know this was the kind of wealth that came straight from the people’s taxes.

Still, I couldn’t complain too much. This hall also served as a diplomatic stage. It was used for grand ceremonies like this one, and as the symbolic heart of the nation, it couldn’t exactly be stingy.

That said, I’d have gladly skipped the whole thing. But here I was anyway, standing where I’d rather not be, playing along for the sake of ceremony.

“Hey, Ryuto,” Cordelia asked, giving me a curious look. Her brows were slightly furrowed, her voice laced with suspicion.

“What is it?” I asked, glancing at Cordelia.

She looked up at me, brows still slightly knit in confusion. “Back then, how did you even make it in time? You were defending a fortress, weren’t you? And I heard the ogres had broken through, turned the whole place into chaos, even dragging the townspeople into the fighting.”

“Yeah, they did,” I said with a nod. “That’s why I got there late. The whole area turned into a warzone, and civilians were caught right in the middle of it. I couldn’t just use aura arts or vacuum blades to clear them out. Would’ve killed everyone in range. It was a nightmare. I had to pick my way through, strike by strike. Took forever.”

“Then how did you make it so quickly after that?” she pressed. “You shouldn’t have been able to cross that much ground in such a short time.”

“There was this old guy in the knight corps,” I said, smirking faintly.

“A knight?”

“Yeah. When the Ogre Emperor showed up, most of the garrison abandoned the fortress. Total rout. And that old man? I think his pride couldn’t take it, watching a kid like me get saddled with the whole mess. So he snapped into action. Pulled together every scattered fighter left, reorganized them on the spot, and bought me the time I needed.”

Cordelia blinked. “That’s incredible command ability. I mean, not just anyone could pull that off.”

I shrugged. “Maybe he just didn’t want to lose face. Letting a kid like me handle everything solo? That couldn’t have sat well. Anyway, I handed things off to the regular army after that. The only ones left in the castle were small fry.”

“I see…” She trailed off, then suddenly dropped her gaze, lashes fluttering downward. “But is this really okay with you?”

“Huh? What are you talking about?”

Shaking her head, Cordelia let out a bitter breath, her voice laced with frustration.

“I mean everything. You’re the one who did it all, but the big shots have made it look like I’m the hero. They’re giving me the credit for almost everything. They even claimed the Demon God was just some kind of illusion spell we’d been caught in. And you? They’re saying you just got lucky, came in at the end, and finished off the Ogre Emperor I defeated. That’s the story they’re running with.”

She hesitated, then added quietly, “You weren’t even going to be included in the commendations until I raised hell about it. That’s the only reason we’re standing here now.”

I chuckled. “Hard-headed bureaucrats always believe what they understand and deny what they don’t. That’s the same in every world.”

Then I gave her a lopsided grin.

“And hey, reporting that a ‘Hero’ saved the day sounds a lot better on paper than admitting some random Villager did it all, don’t you think?”

“But I still feel like the truth should be told…” Cordelia murmured, her voice hesitant. Then, with a burst of determination, she looked up. “Yes. That’s it. I’ll go back and talk to them again, one more time!”

I couldn’t help but smile at the sight of her biting her lip in frustration.

She’s so damn earnest…

“It’s fine,” I said, waving her off with a lazy grin. “Honestly, it doesn’t matter to me. As far as I’m concerned, I supported Hero Cordelia in the ogre subjugation. That’s good enough. I wasn’t even planning to show up to this ridiculous ceremony anyway.”

“Ridiculous?” she echoed, blinking.

“You’ve got a reputation to uphold, don’t you?” I replied. “The bigwigs wanted to hand me a medal for helping you out. That’s the narrative they’re comfortable with. If I’d skipped this, it would’ve looked bad for you. That’s why I’m here. Because I didn’t want to make things harder on you.”

Cordelia let out a long, weary sigh. “You’re kind of infuriating, you know that?”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“Still, I’m sorry for everything.”

“Seriously, don’t be. We’re going to be walking the same road from now on. And if that’s the case, this sort of thing is going to keep happening. So stop apologizing.”

“The same road?” she whispered, turning to me, her eyes wide.

“Yeah,” I said, meeting her gaze. “You and me. From here on out.”

Her eyes sparkled, and for a second, she looked like the sky had opened behind her, bright, clear, and impossibly blue.

“I see. Yeah. You’re right. Then I won’t worry about it at all!” she beamed. “Not one bit!”

Before I could react, she latched onto my arm, both hands wrapping tightly around it like she meant to never let go. Her smile was radiant, cheeks tinged the soft pink of something unspoken blooming beneath the surface.

“Aris. Tomoris. Yurihaineken. Momoris. Kyunso… Cogito Exorzism.”

Lilith’s voice cut through the air like a blade, deadly calm and laced with murder.

She stood a few paces away, casting what could only be described as a spell of unspeakable vengeance in our direction.

Wait, that incantation!

My blood ran cold.

“Lilith, what the hell?! Don’t cast that on Cordelia!! That’s a real curse, damn it. A literal forbidden ritual!”

Because of course, even in the wake of an apocalypse, some things never changed.

I sprinted toward Lilith and cracked her on the head with a clean fist, interrupting the incantation before she could finish. The impact made a satisfyingly sharp crack, and she winced, tears welling in her eyes as she looked down with a pout.

“I still don’t think I did anything wrong,” she mumbled under her breath.

Before I could answer, the headmaster, who’d been lingering nearby, cleared his throat with a dramatic, overacted “Ahem.” Seemed like the main event was finally about to begin.

The king had arrived.

We fell silent for several long, awkward minutes until a short, round man in needlessly elaborate robes waddled into the grand hall. His entrance was less regal and more sluggish, but the symbolism was clear: this was the monarch.

He didn’t speak.

Instead, a frail, wispy aide stepped forward and delivered the words on his behalf.

“For your valor in defeating the Ogre Emperor and Ogre Kings, you have our gratitude. The investiture will now commence.”

Then, directing his narrow gaze at me, he spoke again.

“Ryuto MacLaine, step forward.”

Still silent, I moved ahead. With practiced ease, I dropped to one knee before the king and bowed my head. The motion was smooth, ingrained, drilled into me by Cordelia so many times that my body performed it without thinking.

Finally, the king himself spoke.

“You are still a student, and thus shall not be sworn to this kingdom. However, in recognition of your deeds, Ryuto MacLaine is hereby awarded the Fifth Order of Merit. Furthermore, we grant you the rights and title of Knight under the International Alliance.”

Made sense. Altena Magic Academy had patrons from across multiple nations. With funding coming in from every direction, the political optics of locking a student into a national post were complicated, to say the least.

Can’t have kingdoms poaching each other’s prodigies, now can we?

For someone like me, the political complications weren’t too severe. But someone like Cordelia? It was obvious she’d be at the center of an international tug-of-war.

In her case, it wouldn’t even be a matter of poaching. The nations would convene, hold formal discussions, and collectively decide which country would be granted guardianship over her. That was just the reality for students of the Magic Academy, whether they were prodigies or not. Even someone like me, scraping the bottom of the social barrel, was treated with delicate caution.

That was why the king phrased it that way.

The title of “Knight under the International Alliance” was, in essence, like an international driver’s license. It allowed me to legally bear the title of knight in any country, by direct recognition of royal authority. And honestly, that was a big deal.

For an ordinary Villager, there was no greater distinction. At my age, this was the ceiling. But then again, maybe it was only natural. After all, I had helped put down a disaster involving multiple Ogre Emperors.

A nobody like me, a backwater Villager, barely in my mid-teens, and now I was a knight.

The king himself stepped forward and placed the silver medal in my hands.

I bowed slightly as I accepted it, then stared at it in silence. The cool weight of the medal sat heavy in my palm, gleaming under the chandelier light.

Hard to believe how far I’ve come.

I thought back to that scared, useless kid who used to hide behind others in that tiny village, the version of me before I looped back. This was more than I could’ve dreamed of.

And yet, I wasn’t finished. Not even close.

This wasn’t the limit of my strength, and I knew that better than anyone.

I rose to my feet, offered the king one final bow, and turned to return to my place in the hall. As I walked, I lifted my right hand, gave Cordelia and Lilith a silent thumbs-up, and smiled without a word.

They smiled back, nodding in quiet affirmation.

And under my breath, too soft for anyone else to hear, I whispered to myself, “This is just the beginning. The climb starts now.”

Afterword

Time really flies—here we are already at Volume 3 of I’m Just a Villager, So What? And with it, the manga adaptation’s first volume is launching simultaneously.

Now, just to set expectations: the comic version features quite a few changes from the novel. It’s not a one-to-one adaptation. Since it’s a completely different medium—visual rather than textual—it delivers the story in a fresh, dynamic way. In other words, even if you’ve already read the original, I think there’s plenty in the manga you’ll still find entertaining. Honestly, I can recommend it wholeheartedly.

That said, let’s talk real for a moment. If either the novel or the manga doesn’t sell well, let’s just say we start getting into grown-up issues. Like, whether or not the series gets to keep going. So if you’re even a little curious, I humbly ask that you consider picking up both the book and the comic. (That’s half a joke… and half deadly serious.)

Now then, back to Volume 3.

As I’m writing this afterword, the web novel version has officially passed 37 million views. Thirty-seven million. When I actually stop and think about that number, it honestly leaves me a little stunned. Thank you to everyone who’s read it—seriously.

And in this volume, we’ve got a shrine maiden appearing for the first time.

Not just any shrine maiden, though.

A busty shrine maiden.

Cordelia and Lilith were, shall we say, on the modest side. But this time, I’ve gone in a different direction. Yes, that’s right: this volume features a loli with big boobs.

Let me say that again for emphasis.

A loli. With. Big. Boobs.

You’re welcome.

That’s right!

She’s both a loli and busty!

If I had to describe it using food, I’d say she’s like a uni-ikura rice bowl—an extravagant, unlikely combo that somehow just works. Or, if we’re talking about holidays, it’s like New Year’s and Obon crashing into each other at full speed. Yes. This is happening. We’ve got a busty loli. And she’s making her debut right here, right now.

Still, I do sometimes wonder who was the first person to coin the phrase “busty loli.” On paper, the two concepts couldn’t be more incompatible. But when you put them together… the synergy is strangely powerful. It’s like prosciutto and melon, or dipping seared bonito sashimi in mayonnaise—bizarre, but kind of brilliant.

Now, just to be clear… I don’t have any particular emotional attachment to busty lolis.

Really.

This afterword came about because I was asked to provide one for Volume 3, and, well… I had no idea what to write. So I decided to try pretending I had deep, meaningful thoughts about busty lolis and ran with it.

Or maybe, and this is just a theory, the previous few paragraphs, where I kept shouting about busty lolis, embarrassed me so much that I panicked and started making excuses to hide my actual feelings.

Do I love them or not? Is this all just a deflection? Only one person knows the truth—Shiraishi Shin. And I’ll leave it to you, dear reader, to decide which version of me you believe.

Now, onto something that actually is important.

To Sabamu, the incredibly skilled artist handling the manga adaptation—thank you. Truly.

As the original author, I read the manga and thought, “Wait… was this story always this good?” I honestly started to panic a little. But it’s clear that your craft, your creativity, and your unique interpretation have taken this series to a whole new level.

I’m grateful to have you on this project, and I look forward to working with you in the same spirit going forward.

Thank you all

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