(3rd Person POV)
The cold settled into Leonard's chest and stayed there.
He thought about the years. Every early morning spent going over the group's finances before anyone else was awake, every supply run, every plan drawn out the night before a hunt because he'd done the math and knew what it would cost them if they went in blind. The cooking, the logistics, the thankless weight of keeping six people functional and alive between jobs. He'd done all of it, and he'd done it without being asked, because he'd thought that was what it meant to belong to something.
Charlotte wouldn't look at him.
"Isn't that the «Six of Diamonds»?"
"Looks like it. Seems they're cutting someone loose."
"Who is he, though? I don't remember a seventh member."
"Me neither. From the name alone it should only be six. Didn't even know there was another one."
"I thought he was their attendant, honestly. Turns out he was actually in the group?"
"Poor bastard."
Leonard heard all of it. The crowd wasn't trying to be subtle.
"Can I at least hear the reason?" he asked. His voice had gone cold, but the hurt was sitting just beneath it, audible to anyone paying attention.
"Do you really need to ask?" The burly fighter scoffed. "You're deadweight. Simple as that."
"We've had to pull you out of situations you couldn't handle more times than I can count," the blue-haired assassin said, her disdain unhurried and precise.
The red-haired woman shook her head. "Forget the rest of it — he's a coward. That's the beginning and the end of it. The Fenrir hunt? We could have taken that beast cleanly. Instead we spent half the day on his meticulous little plan just to arrive at the same result. A waste."
"And the Goblin Kings," Charlotte said. "And the Great Serpent. Every time, the same thing — delays, caution, more planning than the situation required."
The others added their share. The blonde knight said nothing to stop them.
"If we hadn't planned, we'd have taken casualties!" Leonard's voice rose despite himself. He looked at them — really looked — and felt a disbelief settling over him that had nothing to do with anger. This is what they actually think. "Those plans are the reason we all walked away from those hunts."
"Enough." The knight's voice was quiet and final. "The planning is one issue among many. Your Enchantment work has become a liability — your output is inconsistent, your range has plateaued, and we've found someone who can replace what you offer and build on it. Particularly with the Demon King expedition being planned."
Leonard's jaw tightened. "I'm not just an Enchanter. I handle spells, buffs, debuffs, support casting, healing when it's needed — I can hold a sword when it comes to it. I do the work of three roles and you know that." He took a breath. "And you're not ready to face the Demon King. None of you are. That's not fear talking, that's arithmetic."
"That's enough, Leonard." Charlotte's voice was quiet and flat. "We've been very patient about this. Just accept it."
The word patient landed somewhere specific.
He looked at her for a moment longer than he should have, then looked away.
"No. You know what — there's nothing left to explain, and I'm not going to stand here and keep talking." He pulled his shoulders back. "We're done. Good luck."
He left without looking back.
...
From across the hall, Kaiser and Keanu watched him go.
"Did you see that?" Kaiser chuckled. "Reminds me of the old days."
"It does," Keanu said. "There was a capable human rejected by his group back then too. We blessed him just to watch the look on their faces when they realized what they'd thrown away." He laughed softly at the memory.
"What do you think? Worth going after the kid?" Kaiser said, still watching the door. "He has potential."
"Didn't Saza specifically warn us not to interfere with this world?" Keanu said.
"Saza told us not to go after the Demon King. She said nothing about talking to a freshly discarded odd-job man." Kaiser watched the door Leonard had walked through. "Besides — Arthur is going to need local staff if he's serious about setting up here. And even from where I'm standing, without any divine sense, I can tell that young man was the one keeping that group functional. They just never noticed it." Kaiser watched the door. "That young man handled finances, logistics, planning, combat, support casting, and whatever else the group needed — all at once, none of it recognized. That kind of person is useful."
Keanu considered this. "Arthur might actually appreciate that."
"I can't think of a single reason he wouldn't." Kaiser was already moving toward the door. "Come on."
---
The Merchant Guild registration had gone smoothly. Hellfire now existed in this world on paper — a licensed entity, free to conduct business within the city, buy property, sell goods, operate without the friction of being an unknown foreign party.
Arthur walked out into the street and turned the question over in his mind. 'What exactly do I sell here?'
The city ran on magic the way his world ran on electricity. Low-level enchanted items circulated the air in homes, kept spaces cool and livable. Ice magic stood in for refrigeration. People conjured cold water, cold treats, small comforts — all through spellwork so ordinary it had stopped being remarkable generations ago. The infrastructure was invisible because it had always been there.
In terms of technology, this world hadn't arrived anywhere close to where his had. Which meant the gap between what existed here and what he could introduce was enormous.
He was still thinking through the possibilities when the girl ran into him.
She hit him squarely, let out a sharp grunt, and went down hard onto the cobblestones, a bread loaf tumbling from her arms. Ten years old at most, clothes worn through at the elbows and knees, face and hands carrying the particular grime of someone who slept wherever they could find shelter.
The bakery owner arrived seconds later, red-faced and breathing hard, and grabbed her by the shoulder before she could scramble up.
"You little bastard. Stealing from me again — I've got you now." His grip tightened. "I'm calling the guards. You're done this time."
"Sir." Arthur's voice was easy. "It's just a bread."
"Just a bread?" The man turned on him with a scoff. "So what? I'm supposed to let every street rat help themselves and smile about it?"
Arthur reached into the coin pouch Saza had pressed on him earlier and drew out three silvers. He held them out. "Is that enough?"
The owner's expression changed completely. His eyes went to the coins, then back to Arthur, then to the coins again. "Enough — yes, more than enough." He took them quickly, released the girl, and clicked his tongue down at her. "Lucky for you." Then he turned and walked back the way he came, pace quick, as though leaving before Arthur could reconsider.
Arthur shook his head and looked down at the girl. She'd gotten herself upright without taking the hand he offered, the bread tucked back against her chest, her eyes moving between him and the street behind him — calculating her exit.
"What's the hurry?" Arthur asked. "You're not even going to say thank you?"
"My brother and mother are hungry." Her voice was barely there. "I need to get back."
He stepped aside and let her go. Watched her small figure move quickly down the street, then disappear around a corner.
He stood there a moment, then continued walking.
His destination was the grand theatre on the far side of the market district.