The noon bell tolled, echoing through the castle's stone corridors.

  A maid appeared promptly, her posture rigid with practiced formality. "The King summons the Legendary Heroes to the Audience Chamber. Please, follow me."

  Four pairs of footsteps fell into sync behind her, the walk to the throne room far more measured than their earlier bickering had been. The levity from the antechamber hadn't vanished entirely—it lingered, a fragile warmth carried in their pockets like shared contraband—but it had receded beneath the weight of what came next.

  They stopped before the towering doors, gilded edges catching the torchlight. The maid raised her hand, waiting for the unseen signal from within.

  Motoyasu rocked on his heels, his earlier mencholy fully burned away by nervous anticipation. "So," he stage-whispered, "companions. We're finally getting companions. Anyone have wishlist?"

  Ren's arms were crossed, his expression carefully neutral. "Someone competent. Who follows instructions without unnecessary deviation. Minimal maintenance requirements."

  "So a robot," Naofumi transted ftly.

  "A capable companion," Ren amended.

  Motoyasu grinned. "I want beautiful women! Strong, beautiful women! Or just beautiful, I'm not picky! Preferably several! Preferably ones who think I'm cool!"

  "We're all hoping for that st part," Naofumi muttered, "and we're all going to be disappointed. No, beyond that, we're going to disappoint them."

  "Don't crush my dreams before we even walk through the door!"

  Naofumi ignored him, his own gaze distant and calcuting. "I just want someone strong. Or at least knowledgeable. Someone who actually understands how this world works, not whatever half-remembered game logic we're all stumbling through." He paused. "And who won't stab me in the back. That'd be nice too."

  The word back nded softly. Ren's jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. Motoyasu's grin faltered for a fraction of a second.

  Noritoshi observed the exchange in silence. Then, quietly, "I want someone dependable. Someone I can trust to do their job, and to do it without hidden agendas." He paused, considering. "Beyond that, my criteria are the same as Naofumi's. Strength is secondary to reliability. Knowledge is secondary to discretion."

  Ren gnced at him. "Why are you speaking as if you're anticipating someone to betray you? You speak like someone who's been betrayed before."

  Noritoshi didn't confirm or deny. He simply met Ren's gaze evenly.

  The maid's hand dropped. The doors began to swing open, golden light spilling out from the throne room beyond.

  "Then again," Noritoshi murmured, "haven't we all?"

  No reply came. They stepped forward in unison, crossing the threshold—

  And immediately stopped.

  Above the main audience hall, a second tier curved along the walls like a suspended gallery. It was crowded with figures draped in silk and velvet, adorned with jewels that caught the light and scattered it in calcuted fshes of wealth. They leaned over the balustrade, whispering behind gloved hands, their eyes—sharp, appraising, hungry—fixed on the four young men below.

  Noritoshi's voice was barely audible. "The nobility of this country."

  The words settled into his companions like stones dropping into still water. Naofumi's posture stiffened. Ren's hand twitched toward his sword hilt before he forced it still. Motoyasu's easy grin had frozen somewhere between confusion and unease.

  But Noritoshi felt something else entirely. A cold, familiar sensation settled into his chest, spreading through his limbs with the weight of old habit.

  A court. Of course it's a court.

  This was not a battlefield. This was worse. This was a room full of people who smiled with their mouths without meaning anything, eyes who measured people's worth in leverage. Loyalty is but a convenience. He had grown up in rooms like this. Had been trained to breathe their poisoned air since he could walk.

  His spine straightened incrementally. His expression smoothed, features settling into that particur bnkness—not cold, not warm, simply unreadable. The mask of the Kamo heir, polished by years of cn politics and the constant vigince for his illegitimate concubine blood.

  "Don't show any weakness," he said, his voice low and even, pitched for the three beside him. "These kind of people are the type to tear you apart if you show even the slightest gap or vulnerability."

  Naofumi shot him a quick, sharp gnce. "Speaking from experience?"

  Noritoshi didn't answer. His gaze was fixed forward, tracking the way the nobles leaned closer to one another, the way their whispers quickened as they studied the heroes like livestock at auction.

  "Just watch your backs," he said. "And don't let them see you bleed."

  Twelve strangers stood in a loose formation before the throne. Their garb varied wildly—some in well-worn leather armor that spoke of practical experience, others in robes embroidered with arcane symbols that practically screamed "mage." A handful carried themselves with the rigid posture of soldiers, their tabards bearing the kingdom's crest.

  Knights, Noritoshi noted. The king's people. To monitor us?

  He caught himself immediately, the old training reasserting control. No. Thinking like that is dangerous. It could just as easily be that every person standing here answers to the crown. Never come to a conclusion without evidence.

  Beside him, the other heroes performed what passed for a bow—more of a polite inclination of the torso than any proper obeisance. Noritoshi mirrored them precisely, neither too deep nor too shallow. A neutral gesture. Safe.

  The king's lips curved in acknowledgment. When he spoke, his voice carried through the hall with practiced authority.

  "As we discussed yesterday, I have called for others to assist you in your journey. Apparently, my call did not go unheeded." He gestured grandly toward the assembled group. "Now then, gathered adventurers, please choose the Legendary Hero with whom you will travel."

  Noritoshi's eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly.

  Wait. They get to choose?

  He scanned the faces before him—some eager, some nervous, some unreadable. His mind raced through the implications. Letting the adventurers pick meant the heroes had no control over their party composition. It meant compatibility was secondary to preference. It meant—

  Why? The question burned in his thoughts. Wouldn't assigning them based on capability be more beneficial? Wouldn't a banced distribution of skills across all four parties create a stronger overall defense against the Waves?

  Unless the goal wasn't optimization.

  Unless the goal was something else entirely.

  He kept his face perfectly still, but his eyes continued their quiet assessment—cataloging, analyzing, waiting to see who would step toward whom.

  Four people stood before Ren. Warriors with sharp eyes and well-maintained weapons, one mage with a tower of curly hair and spectacles perched on her nose.

  Three stood before Motoyasu. All women. All beautiful. One winked. Motoyasu's face achieved a level of brightness that seemed medically concerning.

  Five stood before Noritoshi. Two were older, their faces weathered by experience rather than age. One held herself like a soldier—back straight, gaze direct wielding a spear. One looks to be a seasoned mercenary, wielding a huge axe. The other was an older knight who exudes an air of arrogance. The remaining two were younger, a pair who whispered to each other and kept gncing at him with barely contained curiosity.

  And Naofumi...

  The Shield Hero stood alone. The space before him was conspicuously, painfully empty.

  "Why is there no one for me?!"

  The protest tore from him before he could stop it, raw and incredulous. His head whipped toward the throne, toward the king, toward anyone who might offer an expnation.

  The king shifted on his throne, something flickering across his features too fast to name. "I did not anticipate anything like this."

  Beside him, the minister sighed heavily, as if Naofumi's empty space was an unfortunate but unavoidable weather pattern. "He's not very popur, is he?" The words dripped with false sympathy. "Well. Nothing to be done about it."

  Noritoshi's eyes narrowed. Nothing to be done? There are twelve people here. Even if none chose him initially, you could assign—

  A cluster of robed men near the throne leaned together, whispering behind their sleeves. A moment ter, quiet ughter rippled through their group.

  Naofumi's hands clenched at his sides. "What's so funny?"

  The king straightened, his expression smoothing into something more diplomatic—but his eyes held a cold amusement that made Noritoshi's instincts scream. "It seems that people are whispering around the castle. They are saying that among the four Heroes, the Shield Hero does not have any inherent advantage that the others possess." He paused, letting the words hang. "Like Sir Noritoshi's unique ability, or Sir Ren and Sir Motoyasu's foreknowledge of this world."

  The minister nodded sagely. "The legends say that the four summoned Heroes will have an understanding of our nd and the capability to save it from it's doom. People are wondering if he will truly be able to fulfill the conditions set out in those same legends."

  Naofumi went very still.

  Motoyasu's usual brightness dimmed. He nudged Noritoshi with his elbow, a gesture meant to be casual but nding awkwardly, "I guess someone was eavesdropping on us st night."

  Damnit.

  Those shadows. The ones who had knelt before him in the garden. The ones who served the crown.

  They had been watching since the beginning.

  Listening to every conversation, every argument. And now that information was being weaponized—not against all of them, but against one.

  Against Naofumi.

  Noritoshi's expression didn't change, but behind his eyes, something cold and sharp began to crystallize. This wasn't incompetence. This wasn't chance.

  This was deliberate.

  He had told them unnecessary things.

  Don't let them see you bleed. What did that matter now? What did any of it matter, when the nobles standing in the gallery above weren't waiting for weakness but rather, they were creating it? They weren't circling like vultures, watching for a wound to exploit. They were the ones holding the knives.

  Naofumi stood alone. In front of everyone. In front of the court, the adventurers, the king.

  No one had chosen him. No one would.

  And the king had just finished expining why, using words stolen from their private conversations, twisted into justification.

  Noritoshi didn't know the motive yet. Not fully. But he recognized the shape of what was happening. He had sat through enough cn meetings, watched enough power pys unfold behind smiles and ceremonial nguage, to know when the song of this particur dance was starting.

  This was an attempt. At demeaning. At downpying. At isoting one of them before they'd even begun.

  But why Naofumi? Why the Shield?

  The question burned, but he kept it locked behind his mask. Showing confusion now would be another kind of bleed. Another vulnerability to exploit.

  His eyes swept the room—the ughing advisors, the impassive king, the minister with his false sympathy, the adventurers who carefully avoided looking at the empty space where a fourth hero stood alone.

  "Are there any among you who would wish to throw your lot with the Shield Hero?" The king's voice carried across the hall, performatively hopeful.

  Silence.

  The king waited, scanning the assembled adventurers. No one moved. No one spoke. Several of them suddenly found the floor fascinating.

  The king sighed, the sound heavy with theatrical disappointment. "Alright. If that is the case, then as compensation for not having a party, the Shield Hero will receive one thousand silvers instead of the allocated six hundred that the others will receive." He smiled benignly at Naofumi. "With that money, I hope you will be able to recruit reliable party members on your own."

  Naofumi's expression was stone, but Noritoshi could see the tremor in his jaw, the way his hands had curled into fists at his sides.

  Something in Noritoshi's chest went very, very quiet.

  He stepped forward. Just one step. But the sound of his foot against the marble echoed like a crack in the frozen silence.

  "Then if we could recruit people on our own," he said, his voice calm, measured, and utterly devoid of warmth, "why should we take these adventurers you have gathered? Why couldn't we simply recruit independently? It would be a much better decision anyway." He paused, letting his gaze drift across the assembled nobles, the whispering advisors, the suddenly uncomfortable adventurers. "As seeing that no one here is smart enough to realize that the Shield Hero is a hero equal to the rest of us."

  The hall went silent.

  Not the silence of contemption. The silence of shock. Of offense taken and processed in real-time.

  Above, the nobles' whispers didn't stop—they intensified, scandalized murmurs rippling through the gallery like wind through dry leaves.

  Noritoshi continued, his tone never rising, never sharpening. Just that same terrible calm.

  "Or should I take this as an insult? Not just to the Shield Hero, but to all of us? Are we to understand that the crown's judgment of a legendary hero is so easily swayed by whispers and rumors? That the people chosen by this world's own ws to stand against the Waves are to be evaluated by court gossip and half-heard conversations?"

  The king's expression had frozen. The minister's face was slowly purpling.

  Noritoshi's lips curved. It was not a smile.

  "I wonder what the legends say about that. About a kingdom that welcomes its saviors by dividing them before they've drawn their first breath. About a court that ughs while one hero stands alone." He tilted his head slightly. "I'm sure the bards will find it terribly poetic."

  He turned. Walked directly to Naofumi. Grabbed his wrist.

  "We're leaving."

  Naofumi's eyes widened, but Noritoshi didn't wait for permission. He pulled, and Naofumi—stunned, off-bance, something flickering in his expression that might have been gratitude—stumbled after him.

  The doors loomed ahead. Behind them, the silence had shattered into chaos—nobles exciming, advisors sputtering, the minister's voice rising in indignant protest.

  Noritoshi didn't look back.

  Behind him, he heard the uncertain scuffle of footsteps. Motoyasu's voice, hushed and frantic, "Wait, are we—should we—?"

  Ren's response, quieter but decisive, "Move. Now."

  Two sets of footsteps joined theirs. The doors smmed shut behind them, cutting off the storm of voices.

  They stood in the corridor, breathing hard. Motoyasu looked like he'd just watched someone set fire to a diplomatic treaty. Which is what exactly he just did. Ren's expression was unreadable but his hand hadn't left his sword hilt.

  Naofumi stared at Noritoshi, his wrist still caught in the other hero's grip.

  "...Why?"

  Noritoshi met his gaze. For a moment, the mask slipped—just enough to show something tired, something angry, something that had spent years watching weaker people get fed to wolves.

  "Because someone should have done it for me," he said.

  They moved in silence still taking in what just happened. They only made it to the castle gate when the sound of desperate footsteps erupted behind them—not just a few, but a crowd.

  All twelve adventurers came rushing out, robes fpping, armor cnking, their earlier composure utterly shattered.

  "Please! Lord Sword Hero! Lord Spear Hero! Lord Bow Hero! Wait!"

  The four turned as the group stumbled to a halt before them, breathless and visibly panicked.

  "Lord Bow Hero, please—we didn't—we were told—"

  Noritoshi raised a hand, cutting off the stammering. "You were told what, exactly?"

  The younger warrior who had stood before him stepped forward, her weathered face tight with something between shame and frustration. "We were instructed not to choose the Shield Hero. Quietly. Privately. Before the selection even began."

  The young robed figure beside her nodded grimly. "Orders from above. Don't know who started it, but the message was clear. Anyone who chose the Shield Hero would find themselves without patronage—or work—in this kingdom. Bcklisted. Ruined."

  A younger adventurer, barely more than a boy, wrung his hands. "We didn't want to! But if we can't get work, our families—"

  Motoyasu's mouth fell open. "They—they rigged it?!"

  Ren's expression darkened. "Of course they did."

  Naofumi said nothing. His face had gone very still.

  Motoyasu's face cycled through shock, anger, and something almost like pity. "They rigged it. They actually rigged it."

  Noritoshi studied the adventurers for a long, uncomfortable moment. Then he gnced at the others.

  "Scram," he said ftly. "For now. We need to discuss this. Alone."

  The adventurers hesitated, then scattered, retreating to a respectful distance but clearly unwilling to leave entirely.

  Ren waited until they were out of earshot before speaking. "It's rigged. The entire selection was a performance."

  "Obviously," Noritoshi replied.

  Motoyasu ran a hand through his hair. "But if they're giving those kinds of orders, then it's not just today. Any adventurer in the capital is going to think twice before partying with—" He stopped, gncing at Naofumi.

  "With me," Naofumi finished ftly. "Say it. With me."

  Silence.

  Ren crossed his arms, his tactical mind already working. "If human companions are compromised, we need alternatives. There's another option." He looked at Naofumi directly. "Tamed beasts."

  Motoyasu blinked. "Wait, that's a thing here?"

  "In the game, yes. There's a system called Beast Crests. They bind a monster to a master—essentially a magical contract. Gives the master a form of control, a... kill switch, if necessary. The beast can't harm its master even if it wanted to."

  Noritoshi's eyebrows rose. "And this exists in reality, not just game mechanics?"

  Ren shrugged. "We don't know for certain. But the game was based on this world's legends. If the Beast Crest system exists, it would be the most reliable option. No politics. No hidden agendas. Just a bound companion that literally cannot betray you."

  Naofumi was quiet for a long moment. Then, "Where do I get one?"

  "There are taming facilities on the outskirts of most major cities," Ren replied. "If the game logic holds, we can find one within a day's travel from here."

  Naofumi listened, his expression unreadable. Then, quietly, "You really do treat this like a game, don't you?"

  Ren gnced at him. "It's the framework we have. Until we learn more, it's better than nothing."

  "He's right," Noritoshi said, surprising them. "The logic may be fwed, but it's a starting point. We adapt as we go."

  Motoyasu grinned, some of his usual energy returning. "See? We've got options! And hey, a monster companion sounds way cooler than some random adventurer anyway. You could get a wolf! Or a griffin! Or—"

  "A monster that won't stab me in the back does sound appealing," Naofumi admitted, the first crack in his frozen expression.

  Noritoshi nodded slowly. "Then that's our first objective. But we need supplies, information, and a pn before we leave the capital. We're not walking into the wilderness unprepared."

  He looked at the others—at Ren's calcuting expression, Motoyasu's restored enthusiasm, Naofumi's guarded but present hope.

  "We move as a unit. We share information. We figure out the motives and the people behind this, and make sure they'll never be able to pull this kind of stuff again."

  Ren inclined his head. "Agreed."

  Motoyasu pumped a fist. "Team Unpopur Heroes, assemble!"

  Naofumi snorted. "Don't call it that."

  "Too te! It's official now!"

  In the end, they decided splitting up first was the most practical move. They needed supplies, information, and time to think—all of which would be harder to manage as a conspicuous group of four foreigners marching through the capital together.

  "Where do we meet back up?" Ren asked, his gaze sweeping the unfamiliar streets.

  Noritoshi scanned the group of adventurers still hovering anxiously at a distance. His eyes nded on the woman who had spoken for them earlier—the weathered warrior with the direct gaze and the spear resting against her shoulder. He gestured sharply.

  "You. Come here."

  She approached without hesitation, her stride confident despite the circumstances. Up close, he could see the fine lines around her eyes, the kind earned by years of squinting down roads and across battlefields. Practical leather armor, well-maintained. A spear that looked like it had seen actual use, not just ceremonial polishing.

  "What's your name?"

  "Kairn, my lord."

  He nodded. "Kairn. I need an inn recommendation. Somewhere clean, safe, and can be somewhat trusted."

  Kairn considered for a moment. "The Slumbering Boar, my lord. It's in the merchant's quarter—far enough from the castle to avoid noble eyes, but close enough to the markets for supplies. The owner is a retired mercenary. She doesn't ask questions, and she doesn't gossip."

  "Directions?"

  "Head east until you reach the fountain with the cracked griffin. Take the left street, then right at the tanner's—you'll smell it before you see it—and it's the building with the green door and the painted boar sign. Can't miss it."

  Noritoshi committed the details to memory. "The Slumbering Boar. Green door. We'll meet there by nightfall."

  Kairn nodded and stepped back, rejoining the others.

  Noritoshi turned to find that, in the interim, the other heroes had been approached by their respective adventurers. Small pouches exchanged hands—the allocated money from the king, entrusted to each party for their hero. Motoyasu already being tugged in three different directions by his enthusiastic new companions, while Ren was deep in what looked like a tactical briefing with his four members. Naofumi stood apart, pouch in hand, watching the others with an expression that Noritoshi was learning to recognize—guarded, resigned, expecting nothing.

  Noritoshi raised his voice just enough to carry. "Motoyasu. Ren."

  Two heads turned.

  "The Slumbering Boar inn. Merchant's quarter. Green door, painted boar sign. Get there by nightfall. Don't get lost, don't get distracted, and don't—" he looked pointedly at Motoyasu, "—get distracted by every pretty face you see."

  Motoyasu clutched his chest in mock offense. "You wound me! I am a paragon of focus and restraint!"

  "You literally tried to flirt with the maid who was refilling our water pitcher this morning," Ren deadpanned.

  "That was polite conversation!"

  "You asked if she came here often. We were in a castle. She works there."

  Naofumi snorted. A small sound, barely audible, but unmistakable.

  Motoyasu gasped. "Betrayed! By my own team!"

  Noritoshi allowed himself the faintest smile. "Go. All of you. We'll talk properly tonight.

  Ren nodded once and melted into the crowd, his natural aloofness making him blend surprisingly well. Motoyasu gave an exaggerated salute before bouncing off toward what Noritoshi sincerely hoped was the market and not the nearest tavern full of eligible young women.

  Naofumi lingered a moment longer, his pouch conspicuously bigger than the others. He looked at Noritoshi—really looked at him—something unreadable in his eyes.

  "...Thanks. For back there. You didn't have to do that."

  Noritoshi met his gaze evenly. "Yes. I did."

  Before Naofumi could respond, Noritoshi made a decision.

  "Naofumi. You're with me."

  The Shield Hero looked up, surprise flickering across his features. "What?"

  "We're going to find that beast tamer Ren mentioned. My party can lead the way." He gnced at the four who had chosen him and Kairn, who had lingered nearby. "All of you, front. Lead us to wherever we need to go."

  They fell into formation without compint, though the air immediately grew thick with awkward tension. Naofumi walked beside Noritoshi, neither speaking, the silence between them heavy with everything unsaid.

  Noritoshi sted exactly three blocks before deciding he'd rather deal with introductions than suffocate.

  "Enough of this," he said ftly. "We're going to be traveling together. Introduce yourselves. Properly."

  The adventurers exchanged gnces. Then, one by one, they complied.

  The red-haired mage stepped forward first. His robe was fine quality—expensive wool, silver-threaded embroidery at the cuffs that caught the light. He held himself with the quiet confidence of someone accustomed to academic halls rather than battlefields.

  "Welst," he said, his voice measured and educated. "Graduate of the Magic Academy. I specialize in Water and Support magic. Healing, purification, defensive barriers—if it keeps the party alive, I'm your man." He offered a small, precise nod and stepped back.

  Beside him, a woman with shoulder-length red hair gave an easy smile. She wore fitted leather armor, a well-banced sword at her hip, and moved with the natural grace of someone comfortable in her own skin. Her features were striking—the kind of conventionally attractive that turned heads in crowded rooms.

  "Myne Sophia," she said, her voice warm and encouraging. "Swordswoman, but I also dabble in Fire and Wind magic. Fast on my feet, faster with a bde, and I don't panic when things go sideways." She winked. "Which they always do. Trust me."

  A rge man stepped forward next, his full pte armor cnking with each movement. He was tall, sturdy, and robust, with a thick mustache that seemed meticulously groomed. When he removed his helmet, he revealed sharp features and an expression that radiated condescension before he'd even spoken a word.

  "Mald," he announced, his voice carrying the kind of drawl that expected deference. "Knight of the Crimson Order. And nobility, as it happens." He paused, letting the weight of his status settle over the group. His eyes swept across them—lingering briefly on Naofumi with something cold and dismissive—before returning to Noritoshi.

  "I wield sword and shield with equal proficiency. You can rely on me to hold the line." His chest puffed slightly. "I'm accustomed to directing others in combat. It's simply more efficient that way. Someone of my standing, after all, has a certain... authority that must be exercised for the greater good."

  The words were yered—not quite an order, but a decration of hierarchy. A reminder that he outranked everyone here except, technically, the heroes themselves. His posture radiated the kind of self-righteousness that came from never being told no.

  Noritoshi's expression remained perfectly neutral, but his eyes had gone very still. He recognized the type. The noble who confused status with competence, who mistook intimidation for leadership. The kind who would commit objectively wrong actions while fully believing himself justified.

  And the way he looked at Naofumi...

  "Noted," Noritoshi said ftly, offering nothing more.

  Mald's mustache twitched, as if he'd expected more acknowledgment. When none came, he stepped back with a stiff bow that barely qualified as polite.

  A mountain of a man stepped forward next, a massive axe resting across his shoulders like it weighed nothing. His face was weathered, his expression stoic, his long hair styled in ponytail hanging on his back. He looked at the group for a long moment.

  "Rojeel."

  Silence.

  Then, with absolute deadpan seriousness: "I have an axe. I hit things with it. So far, things have not hit me back successfully."

  Another pause.

  "That's the introduction."

  He stepped back, expression unchanging.

  Noritoshi blinked. Once. Then decided to simply move on.

  Finally, Kairn stepped forward. She was younger than the others—not a girl, but certainly on the younger side of the group, with the lean build of someone who relied on speed over brute force. She wore sleeveless armor that left her arms bare, paired with a practical skirt that allowed free movement. A spear rested comfortably in her grip, clearly her weapon of choice. Short blonde hair framed her face, held back by a simple headband pressed against her forehead.

  "Kairn," she said simply. Her voice was steady, neither deferential nor challenging. "Spear fighter. Scout. Sometimes I handle negotiations, apparently." A dry gnce at the others. "Been doing this for a few years. Fought in a border skirmish, helped clear a monster nest outside a vilge, dealt with more bandits than I'd like to count. I've kept people alive through all of it." She met Noritoshi's gaze directly. "I'll keep you alive too. That's the job."

  She stepped back, falling into pce beside the others, her grip on the spear never quite rexing.

  "My name is Noritoshi Kamo," he said, his voice carrying just enough to ensure everyone heard. "You'll address me as Noritoshi, not 'my lord' or 'Lord Bow Hero.' We're going to be fighting together. Formality will slow us down."

  He gnced at Naofumi, who stood slightly apart, his expression carefully bnk.

  "This is Naofumi Iwatani. The Shield Hero. You will treat him with the same respect you treat me."

  A beat of silence.

  Mald's mustache twitched. His posture stiffened almost imperceptibly, the kind of micro-adjustment that preceded words carefully chosen to avoid direct offense.

  "Of course," Mald said smoothly, his tone just shy of oily. "Though I must say, Noritoshi—" the name was delivered with the faintest pause, as if testing its weight on his tongue, "—it's rather... generous of you to extend such consideration. One might even say unexpectedly so, given the circumstances."

  His eyes flicked to Naofumi, then back. "I'm merely observing that most in your position would naturally gravitate toward those of... simir standing. Shared backgrounds tend to foster more effective teamwork, wouldn't you agree? It's simply practical."

  The words were harmless. On the surface. A casual observation about compatibility. But the subtext hummed beneath them like a plucked string—you're associating beneath yourself, and we both know it.

  Noritoshi's expression didn't shift by a millimeter. "Shared backgrounds are one metric. Shared goals are another. Right now, our shared goal is surviving long enough to figure out why the kingdom seems so invested in keeping us divided." He tilted his head slightly. "Unless you have a different priority, Mald?"

  The knight's smile tightened at the edges. "Survival is everyone's priority. I was merely considering optimal survival. Efficiency. Surely you can't fault a knight for thinking strategically?"

  "I fault no one for thinking. I only judge based on what they do with those thoughts." Noritoshi's tone was perfectly even. "So far, your thoughts haven't contributed to our forward momentum. Lead us to the beast tamer. We're burning daylight."

  Mald's jaw worked for a moment before he executed a stiff bow—technically correct, precisely measured, and radiating reluctant compliance. "As you wish."

  He turned and began walking, his armor cnking with each step.

  The party moved out, falling into formation around the two heroes. Welst fell into step beside Myne, murmuring something too quiet to catch. Rojeel tromped along in stoic silence, his axe a silent mountain on his shoulder. Kairn took point, her spear held loosely but ready, her eyes scanning the streets ahead with practiced vigince.

  Naofumi walked beside Noritoshi in silence. For a long time, neither spoke.

  But something in Naofumi's posture had eased. Just slightly. The set of his shoulders, the way his hands hung instead of clenched. Barely noticeable.

  Noritoshi noticed.

  .

  .

  .

  .

  .

  .

  They were led down a back alley, the cheerful bustle of the merchant's quarter fading behind them like a pleasant dream dissolving into nightmare.

  Pretty soon, Noritoshi noticed an arming number of scruffy, dangerous-looking people lining the walls. Men with scarred faces and empty eyes. Women with the hollow look of those who had long ago stopped expecting kindness. The air was thick with aggressive shouts from somewhere deeper in the warren, followed by the sharp crack of something fragile breaking—a bottle, maybe. Or bone.

  More than anything, it smelled terrible. Rotting food. Unwashed bodies. Something metallic that Noritoshi didn't want to identify.

  Naofumi's nose wrinkled. "What is this pce?"

  "The beast taming district," Mald replied, his voice carrying that familiar note of condescension. "Where else would one acquire animals?"

  Noritoshi filed away the obvious avoidance in that answer and pressed forward. "Tell me about these beasts. How does the crest work? What kind of creatures are avaible?"

  Welst answered, his academic background lending precision to his words. "The Beast Crest is a magical binding, typically applied to young monsters—wolves, rge birds, sometimes more exotic creatures if you have the coin. It creates a sympathetic link between master and beast. The creature can feel its master's emotional state to some degree, and more importantly..." He hesitated.

  "More importantly?" Naofumi pressed.

  "It cannot harm its master," Welst finished. "The crest prevents it. Even if it wanted to, the magic simply... won't allow it."

  Myne nodded, her encouraging demeanor still present but slightly dimmed. "It's quite humane, really. The beasts are usually raised from cubs or hatchlings. They bond naturally with their handlers."

  Noritoshi caught the careful wording. "Usually."

  Kairn shot him a look over her shoulder but said nothing.

  They continued without any word. A scream of some kind could be heard as they head deeper into the slums.

  They rounded a corner, and the source of the shouting became clear—a cramped courtyard where a burly man was screaming at a chained creature that might once have been a wolf. It was thin, matted, and cowered with its tail between its legs.

  Noritoshi stopped walking.

  "That's not a monster," he said quietly. "That's an animal."

  "It's a beast," Mald corrected, waving a dismissive hand. "They're all beasts until they're tamed. The process can be... vigorous. But the result is a loyal companion."

  Naofumi's voice was tight. "And if someone wanted something more... intelligent? Something that could actually communicate? Follow complex orders?"

  The adventurers exchanged gnces.

  Rojeel, surprisingly, was the one who answered. His deep voice was ft, uninflected. "You'd be looking for a different kind of crest. Not for beasts."

  Noritoshi's stomach dropped. He knew where this was going before the words left anyone's mouth.

  Mald smiled—a thin, unpleasant thing. "Ah. You mean demi-humans."

  The word nded like a sp.

  Naofumi went very still. "Demi-humans."

  "Of course," Mald continued, seemingly oblivious to—or delighted by—the shift in atmosphere. "They can be branded with the Crest as well. Very effective for certain types of bor. Or combat roles, if you prefer. They're smarter than beasts, more adaptable. Some of them even retain enough personality to be useful in social situations, though you have to be careful about that. Too much personality becomes... problematic."

  Noritoshi felt something cold crystallize in his chest. His voice, when it came, was dangerously calm. "You're talking about svery."

  Mald blinked, as if the word was unfamiliar. "I'm talking about crests. It's not the same as—"

  "It's exactly the same."

  Welst stepped in quickly, his academic composure cracking slightly. "There are legal distinctions! In Melromarc, monsters are free game—they have no rights, no personhood. Demi-humans can only be branded if they're convicted criminals. It's a punishment, not—"

  "A punishment," Naofumi repeated ftly. "For what? Being born? Looking different?"

  "No, no, actual crimes—"

  Myne touched Welst's arm, silencing him. Her face had lost its encouraging warmth, repced by something more careful, more diplomatic. She looked directly at Noritoshi, then at Naofumi.

  "What Welst is trying to say," she said gently, "is that monster taming and demi-human crests are viewed differently here. The w treats them as separate things. Monsters are property regardless. People—even demi-humans—have protections. They can only be branded if they've been convicted of a crime through proper legal channels."

  Her eyes were earnest, pleading for understanding.

  "I know it sounds harsh to outsiders. But this is how it's always been. The crest on a monster is just... taming. The crest on a person is punishment. There's a difference."

  Noritoshi stared at her for a long moment. Then he looked at Naofumi.

  The Shield Hero's face was stone, but his hands were shaking.

  "Let me be clear," Naofumi said, his voice carrying to every member of his so-called party. "I will not be purchasing a person. Ever. Under any circumstances. If that limits our options, then we find other options."

  Mald opened his mouth.

  Noritoshi looked at him.

  Mald closed his mouth.

  "Now," Noritoshi continued, "we came here for a beast. A real beast. An animal. Take us to whoever sells those, and do not—" his gaze swept across all of them, "—mention the other option again."

  The party moved out, the silence somehow heavier than before.

  They turned a corner, and there, at the end of the alley, stood something utterly incongruous with its surroundings—a circus tent. Striped fabric in faded red and white, sagging slightly in the middle, its entrance fnked by flickering nterns that somehow made the space look more sinister rather than inviting.

  Noritoshi ducked inside, Naofumi close behind him.

  The first thing he noticed was the smell.

  It hit him like a physical wall—the thick, cloying stench of a zoo that had never been cleaned. Urine. Feces. Unwashed fur and rotting meat. The combined odors of too many creatures crammed into too small a space for too long. From the corner of his eye, he saw Naofumi's jaw lock, his throat working as he physically held himself back from gagging.

  The second thing he noticed was the man.

  He was short—barely chest-height on Noritoshi—and dressed in a traditional circus ringmaster's tuxedo that might have been expensive once but now looked worn at the cuffs and colr. A long top hat sat perched on his head at a jaunty angle. Small gsses with a delicate chain attached were banced on his nose. White alchemist gloves covered his hands, spotless in a way that seemed almost obscene given the filth surrounding them. A red bow tie sat at his throat, a small diamond brooch glittering in its center.

  His mustache was small and old-fashioned, precisely waxed into a handlebar shape. His smile was wider than it had any right to be, and it didn't reach his eyes.

  "My name is Beloukas," the tiny man said, his voice surprisingly deep and slick as oil. He spread his arms wide, gesturing at the cramped, stinking space around them. "Monster trader. Purveyor of beasts both common and rare. How may I assist the Legendary Heroes today?"

  The smile never wavered.

  Naofumi stepped forward, his revulsion carefully masked behind a neutral expression. "I need a beast. Something immediately combat-effective. I don't have time to raise a cub or train a hatchling."

  Beloukas's grin widened, if such a thing were possible. "Ah, a practical customer! I appreciate that, my lord. Truly." He csped his gloved hands together. "Freshly captured specimens, already broken to command, ready for the Crest. They're not cheap, of course—combat-ready beasts require investment—but for a Hero? Special consideration, perhaps."

  He gestured toward a curtained opening at the back of the tent. "The prime merchandise is stored deeper in. Please, follow me. Mind your step—the floor can be... uneven."

  Noritoshi exchanged a gnce with Naofumi. Then they followed.

  The back of the tent opened into a longer corridor, lined on both sides with cages stacked three high. The smell intensified—the animal stench now underid with something else. Something human.

  Noritoshi's steps slowed.

  The first cage held a wolfish creature, matted and growling. Standard beast stock. But the second... the second held a heavily malnourished young woman. Small, pointed ears, too-thin arms wrapped around too-thin knees. A demi-human. She didn't look up as they passed.

  The cages continued. A young man with furred paws for hands, chained by the ankle. A woman with feathers in her hair and hollow eyes. A beast man with canine features, his ribs visible through patchy fur, lying motionless in the corner of his cell.

  They're supposed to be criminals?

  Naofumi's breathing had gone very quiet—the kind of quiet that preceded violence. Noritoshi caught his arm, just for a moment, just enough to remind him they weren't alone.

  Beloukas walked ahead, seemingly oblivious to their reactions. Or perhaps he simply didn't care.

  "Nearly there, my lords. The combat-ready beasts are just through here. Some of my finest stock—strong, obedient, freshly branded. You won't find better in the capital."

  The cages continued. Demi-humans. Beastmen. All of them bearing the same expression: the hollow, vacant look of those who had stopped hoping.

  These are supposed to be criminals, Noritoshi thought again. This is supposed to be punishment.

  He didn't believe it for a second.

  He managed to bear it together.

  He catalogued the cages, the faces, the hollow eyes. He noted the stench, the filth, the way the creatures—no, the people—flinched when Beloukas passed too close. He kept his expression neutral, his breathing steady, his hands loose at his sides.

  He was Noritoshi Kamo. Former heir to the Kamo cn. Trained from birth to conceal every emotion behind an unreadable mask.

  He could bear this.

  Until they passed one of the cages.

  It was holding a little girl. Around ten years old. Small—unbelievably skinny, her ribs visible through threadbare cloth. Her skin was pale, too pale, and a wet, rattling cough shook her tiny frame as they approached. Her dog-like ears, fluffy and brown, had been tied up with rough twine at the tips, forcing them to stay perked. Her raccoon-like tail—thin and patchy—were bound together at the base with the same cruel cord.

  She looked up as they passed.

  Her eyes were huge in her gaunt face. Dark circles ringed them. She was terrified—not the frantic terror of an animal, but the quiet, hopeless fear of someone who had learned that screaming changed nothing. She curled into herself, making herself as small as possible, and coughed again. A wet, horrible sound.

  Noritoshi stopped walking.

  Around the same age as Harutoshi.

  His little brother. The boy who had cried with him when he was pgued by nightmare of the jujutsu world.

  Who had hugged him and made him promise to come back. Who had a whole life ahead of him—family, love, safety.

  This girl had nothing. Just a cage. Just sickness. Just terror.

  The air around Noritoshi turned cold.

  That very same feeling—the one that had quieted his chest in the throne room, the one that preceded the storm—was resurging. Not anger. Not yet. Just a vast, still emptiness that preceded action.

  "Hey, Mald."

  His voice was calm. Perfectly calm.

  The knight turned, his expression mildly curious. "Yes?"

  Noritoshi didn't look away from the cage. From the girl. From her bound ears and tails and the way she flinched when his gaze lingered.

  "You said that a sve could only be branded if they are a criminal, correct?"

  Mald's mustache twitched. "That's... yes. The w is clear on that point."

  "What crime could a child like her commit to suffer this fate?"

  The silence that followed was absolute. Even Beloukas had stopped walking, his sinister grin flickering at the edges.

  Mald opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it again.

  No words came out.

  Noritoshi turned to look at him then—just looked. His expression hadn't changed. His voice hadn't risen. But something in his eyes made Mald take an involuntary step backward.

  "That's what I thought."

  Mald, sensing the shift in atmosphere, scrambled to fill the silence with words he clearly hoped would appease.

  "Well, you see, these—these are beasts, Noritoshi. Demi-humans. They're not like us. Their kind is naturally predisposed to crime and disorder. It's in their blood. So even if this particur child hasn't committed a crime yet, it's only a matter of time. The branding is... preventative. A kindness, really. It gives them structure. Purpose."

  Noritoshi said nothing. His gaze remained fixed on the girl, who had curled even tighter into herself.

  Mald pressed on, encouraged by the ck of immediate response. "And besides, corruption in the system is inevitable. Sometimes people slip through who shouldn't be here. That's not the fault of the w—it's the fault of those administering it. Bribes, false convictions, it happens. But the system itself is sound. These creatures need to be controlled. It's for everyone's safety."

  He was rambling now, the words tumbling out faster as Noritoshi's silence stretched.

  "The Shield Hero—well, he's different, obviously, but that's because he's a Hero, even if he is a Shield. But these ones? They're just beasts. Animals wearing human shapes. You can't apply the same standards to them as you would to real people. It's not—"

  "Is that what you truly believe?"

  Noritoshi's voice cut through the monologue like a bde. Quiet. Precise. Utterly devoid of inflection.

  Mald blinked. "I... yes. Of course."

  "Are what coming out of your mouth truly the truth that you held close in your heart and live by every day?"

  Mald drew himself up, visibly relieved to be asked for a firm decration. "Yes. Absolutely. I stand by every word."

  Noritoshi nodded slowly. Once.

  Then he turned to face the knight fully.

  "You're dismissed."

  Mald's confidence crumbled into confusion. "I... what?"

  "Leave. You are no longer part of this party. You will not travel with me, fight beside me, or speak to me again. If I see you following us after this moment, I will consider it an act of hostility and respond accordingly."

  The blood drained from Mald's face. "You can't—I'm a knight of the Crimson Order! I'm nobility! You can't just—"

  "I can." Noritoshi's voice didn't rise, but something in it made Mald step back again. "I am a Legendary Hero. My party, my choice. And I choose not to surround myself with people who look at a sick, terrified child and see an animal deserving of its cage."

  He swept his gaze across the remaining adventurers—Welst, Myne, Rojeel, Kairn. They stood frozen, uncertain.

  "Anyone who shares Mald's beliefs," Noritoshi continued, "anyone who looks at this pce and sees justice, anyone who thinks these people deserve this—follow him now. No questions asked. No punishment. Just go."

  Silence.

  No one moved.

  Mald sputtered, his face cycling through shades of red. "This is—you'll regret this! The Crimson Order will hear of this! My family—"

  "Your family," Noritoshi said ftly, "should be ashamed."

  He turned his back on the knight—a deliberate, devastating dismissal—and faced Beloukas.

  The little man's grin had returned, sharper now, assessing. Watching the drama with evident delight.

  "You heard him, didn't you?" Noritoshi's voice was calm, almost conversational. "This is quite obviously an illegal svery operation."

  He turned to Myne, who had gone pale beneath her freckles.

  "Myne. How could I report this person and make him rot in jail?"

  Myne's mouth opened and closed. "Uhh... that's... I mean, there are procedures, but—"

  Beloukas ughed.

  It was a high, tittering sound, completely at odds with his sinister appearance. He csped his gloved hands together, clearly delighted.

  "Hahahaha! That wouldn't be possible, Bow Hero."

  Noritoshi's eyes shifted to him. "Oh?"

  The little man adjusted his gsses, the chain catching the mplight. "The things that knight of yours just said? That's only the surface level. The visible rot. In truth, corruption has rooted so deep in this kingdom that you could only make it disappear if the kingdom itself was gone."

  Silence.

  Noritoshi studied him. "I see."

  Beloukas spread his hands, utterly unafraid. "That's right. Even if you threw me in jail—which you could, you're a Hero, you have that power—someone up there would bail me out by nightfall. I'm too useful to too many powerful people to stay in a cage."

  He gestured at the rows of cages around them. "Irony, isn't it? The ones in the cages stay there. The one running the cages walks free. That's how it works."

  Noritoshi was quiet for a long moment.

  The others held their breath. Naofumi's hand twitched toward his shield. Even the girl in the cage had gone still, her huge eyes watching the strange man who had stopped to look at her.

  "...If that's the case," Noritoshi said slowly, thoughtfully, "should I just kill you then?"

  The words nded like stones in still water.

  Beloukas's grin froze.

  For the first time, something flickered behind his eyes that might have been fear.