It was close to midnight. They walked and almost lost their way several times without Mald's guidance. No one—and Naofumi meant it when he said no one—was familiar with the slums. Even experienced adventurers like Kairn and Rojeel avoided ever going there. Less need to be said about Myne and Welst.
The streets had grown darker the deeper they ventured, lanterns few and far between, buildings leaning toward each other like tired old men. More than once, Naofumi caught shadows moving in alleyways—shadows that watched but didn't approach. Whether it was Noritoshi's presence or simply luck, he didn't know. He didn't want to find out.
Naofumi's brain felt like mush. His eyes burned. His shoulders ached. His mind kept circling back to Raphtalia—to that small, bandaged child curled in a cage—and the rage that had been simmering all night threatened to boil over again.
Kairn muttered curses under her breath. Welst kept checking his bearings against the stars. Rojeel just grunted and followed.
But they finally made it.
The Slumbering Boar stood at the intersection of two equally miserable streets, its sign creaking gently in the night breeze. Light spilled from its grimy windows, and even from outside, they could hear the noise—laughter, shouting, the clink of glasses, someone attempting to sing and failing miserably.
Naofumi pushed open the door.
The smell hit first. Ale, sweat, cheap food, and something burning in the kitchen. Then the noise. The common room was packed—more people than should legally fit in a space this size, crammed together at tables, standing against walls, spilling out of every available corner. They were drinking, shouting, laughing, and just being rowdy in general.
It was chaos.
Naofumi suddenly stopped dead. "Bara?! When did you get here? And why?"
The massive beastman took a long pull from his mug, then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "I see you guys finally arrived. I waited quite long."
Noritoshi's eyebrow twitched. "You've been here for hours?"
"Got here hours ago." Bara shrugged massive shoulders. "I thought you people knew the way. Evidently not."
Kairn's eye twitched. "And you didn't think to fetch us? Help us get here quicker?"
Bara looked at her with absolute sincerity. "I was busy."
"Busy doing what?"
He raised his mug. "Busy drinking." Then he laughed—a deep, rumbling sound that seemed to shake the floorboards. "Hahahaha!"
Kairn stared at him. Rojeel stared at him. Even Welst, usually unflappable, looked mildly offended.
Naofumi pinched the bridge of his nose. "Why are you here, Bara? Where's Rhea and Flatche?"
Bara's laughter subsided. He took another bite of meat, chewed thoughtfully, then answered. "They're with Beloukas. Back at his office. Protecting the whole place. It's the usual bodyguard duty." He paused. "I'm here for you."
Naofumi blinked. "For me?"
"Bodyguard." Bara gestured at himself with the meat skewer. "Someone sent to protect you."
"Sent by who?"
"Beloukas. Me. Rhea. Flatche." Bara shrugged. "We talked. Decided you might need watching. You're important now—owner of everything. And you walk around with no guards, no escort, just..." He glanced at Noritoshi. "Well. Him. But still."
Naofumi didn't know what to say to that.
Bara continued, gesturing vaguely at Noritoshi. "But because he's with you, I didn't see any point in escorting you tonight." He took another drink. "Maybe tomorrow. If you go somewhere without the scary one."
Noritoshi's expression didn't change, but there was something almost like amusement in his eyes. Then he brushed past them, searching for the table where Motoyasu and Ren sat. "Come on. We've got people to talk to."
They walked ahead into the crowd and Naofumi saw Bara waving at him. He waved back.
Naofumi scanned the crowd, searching for familiar faces. The press of bodies made it nearly impossible to see more than a few feet ahead.
But Noritoshi had keen eyes.
"There," he said, pointing toward a corner near the hearth. "Motoyasu. Ren's with him."
Naofumi followed his gaze and spotted them—Motoyasu at the center of a large table, surrounded on all sides by people. Ren sat at the far end, looking like he wanted to be literally anywhere else.
Getting there was a challenge.
Rojeel went first, his massive frame parting the crowd through sheer presence. Kairn followed, using elbows and sharp glares to clear a path. Welst slipped through behind them, smaller and quicker, taking advantage of the gaps they created.
Noritoshi moved differently. He didn't push. He didn't glare. He simply walked, and the crowd seemed to part around him—instinctively, unconsciously, like water flowing around a stone. People stepped aside without seeming to realize they were doing it.
Naofumi grabbed Myne's arm and stayed close to Noritoshi, using his wake like a shield. Myne didn't protest, which told him more about her comfort level than words could have.
Finally, they reached the table.
Motoyasu sat at the head, holding court like a king among admirers. Barmaids clung to both his arms, giggling at everything he said. Several other women—and a few men—leaned in from surrounding chairs, hanging on his every word. He was in the middle of a story, gesturing dramatically with his free hand.
"—and then the goat—huge thing, I'm telling you, at least twice my size—it charged! Full speed, horns lowered, going straight for my heart!" He paused for effect, his audience leaning forward. "But I just sidestepped—like this—" He mimed the movement, nearly knocking over a mug. "—and drove my spear right through its flank! One hit! Can you believe it?"
The crowd erupted in impressed murmurs.
Naofumi stared.
It had been one day. One single day since the summoning. Motoyasu had gone out, killed some goat monsters and... did he just hear him say Balloon?!
Whatever. It's not the time. Motoyasu created a saga from exterminating some goats and balloons.
And the audience was eating it up.
But as Naofumi looked closer—really looked at their eyes, their expressions, the way they leaned toward Motoyasu—he realized something.
It wasn't the story captivating them.
It was Motoyasu.
His looks. His charm. That effortless pretty-boy charisma that made people want to listen even when he was describing something as mundane as killing a balloon monster.
Naofumi sighed internally.
As expected of pretty boy Motoyasu.
Ren sat at the far end of the table, half-hidden in shadow, watching the spectacle with an expression of long-suffering patience. When he caught Naofumi's eye, he raised his mug in a silent toast—part greeting, part please save me from this madness.
Naofumi almost laughed.
Motoyasu finally noticed them mid-gesture, his eyes lighting up with recognition.
"Naofumi! Noritoshi! There you are!" He waved enthusiastically, nearly smacking one of the barmaids in the face. "Come, come! I saved you seats!"
He pointed to two empty chairs at the table—squeezed between a group of giggling women and a large man who looked like he hadn't bathed in weeks.
Naofumi and Noritoshi sat. Myne hovered behind Noritoshi until he gestured to a nearby stool, which she took gratefully. Kairn, Welst, and Rojeel fanned out to adjacent tables, close enough to hear if needed, far enough to give the Heroes space.
Motoyasu grinned. "So what's up? You guys look serious. Did something happen? Did you fight something cool? I fought a huge goat today—"
"We need to talk." Noritoshi's voice cut through the chatter, calm but firm. "Privately."
Motoyasu blinked. "Privately? But we're at a table. With people." He gestured at his admirers, who were looking between the Heroes with curiosity.
"Your party," Noritoshi clarified. "And Ren's. Everyone else needs to give us some space."
The barmaids exchanged glances. The large man looked mildly offended. A few of Motoyasu's other hangers-on shifted uncomfortably.
Motoyasu's expression flickered—confusion, then reluctance, then something almost like understanding when he saw Noritoshi's face. "Uh... okay. Hey everyone, give us a minute, alright? Hero business."
The barmaids pouted. "But Motoyasu-sama—"
"Just for a little while," he said, patting their hands with practiced charm. "I'll find you later, promise."
They relented, peeling away from the table with obvious reluctance. But it wasn't just them.
Three women who had been sitting closest to Motoyasu—clearly his official party, given their coordinated equipment and the way they positioned themselves around him—rose as one. They were all attractive, all armed, and all watching Noritoshi with varying degrees of suspicion.
The tallest, a swordwoman with sharp eyes, spoke. "Motoyasu-sama, are you sure?"
"It's fine, Elena." Motoyasu waved them off. "Just give us a few minutes. Grab a table nearby."
The three women exchanged glances, then nodded reluctantly. They moved to a table just out of earshot, close enough to watch, far enough to give the illusion of privacy.
Ren's party was more complicated.
Ren himself stood without being asked, clearly sensing the gravity in Noritoshi's tone. But his four companions—three men and one woman, all armed, all with the wary look of experienced fighters—didn't move.
"We're his party," one of the men said flatly. A large fellow with a greatsword across his back. "Whatever concerns the Sword Hero concerns us."
Noritoshi met his gaze. "This concerns matters that aren't mine to share freely. Not yet."
"Then we stay."
"Ren." Noritoshi's voice was quiet. "Your people. Please."
Ren studied him for a long moment. Then he turned to his party.
"It's fine. Wait at the next table. Keep an eye on the room."
The woman—a rogue type wearing a chinese dress and martial arts belt—frowned. "Ren—"
"I trust them." Ren's voice was calm but final. "If there's something I need to share, I will. But right now, they're asking for privacy. We'll give it."
The four adventurers exchanged glances, then reluctantly rose. They moved to a table beside Motoyasu's party, close enough to watch, far enough not to overhear.
Within minutes, the table was clear.
Just the four Heroes. And Noritoshi's party.
Motoyasu glanced at her, then at the nearby tables where Kairn, Welst, and Rojeel sat watching. He scratched his head.
"So the reason your party isn't dismissed is because they already knew about what you're going to tell us, right?"
Ren didn't even look up from his mug. "That's a dumb question."
Motoyasu sputtered. "Hey! It's a legitimate question!"
"They're sitting right there." Ren's voice was flat. "They walked in with Noritoshi. They're armed and watching the room instead of drinking. Of course they know."
"Well, I didn't—"
"You didn't think. As usual."
Motoyasu opened his mouth to protest, then closed it. Then opened it again. Then closed it.
Naofumi looked away as he wouldn't be able to hold down his laugh the longer he looked at Motoyasu's face.
Noritoshi, for his part, simply nodded. "They know enough. Kairn, Welst, and Rojeel were with us tonight. They saw what we saw." He paused. "And they'll be part of what comes next, if they choose to be."
Motoyasu glanced at the three adventurers again—Kairn sharpening a knife at her table, Welst reading something by candlelight, Rojeel sitting like a mountain with his arms crossed. "Huh. They seem... loyal."
"They're learning to be." Noritoshi's voice was quiet. "It's a process."
Motoyasu leaned forward, his earlier playfulness fading. "Okay, seriously now. What's going on? Did someone die or something?"
Noritoshi glanced at Naofumi—a silent question. You okay with this?
Naofumi nodded. Go ahead.
And Noritoshi began to talk.
He told them about Beloukas. About the battle slaves. About the intelligence network that now belonged to Naofumi. About the records, the ledgers, the mountain of evidence documenting crimes that went far deeper than simple slave trading.
He told them about Lurolona Village. About Lord Seaetto. About the Wave that had struck yesterday morning—the same day they were summoned.
He told them about the slave hunters who had moved in while the queen was at the Faubley summit. About the three hundred survivors who had been rounded up and sold within hours. About the children—dozens of them—who had been taken.
He told them about Idol Rabiel. About the note demanding priority acquisition of Lurolona's children. About his reputation, his estate, his collection.
And he told them about Raphtalia.
Eight years old. Taken yesterday morning. Tortured by her slave crest every time she tried to speak. In a cage beneath Beloukas's office, waiting for someone to decide her fate.
When he finished, the table was silent.
Motoyasu's face had gone through several expressions during the recitation—confusion, disbelief, dawning horror, and now something that looked almost like sickness.
"That's..." He swallowed hard. "That's really happening? People are... they're using the Waves as cover to steal children?"
"Yes."
Ren's expression was unreadable. "And you're certain of this? The information is verified?"
"Beloukas's network is extensive. He's been building it for decades." Noritoshi paused. "We'll verify everything ourselves, of course. But the initial evidence is compelling."
Ren was quiet for a long moment. Then: "The noble. Idol Rabiel. I've heard that name before."
Naofumi's attention sharpened. "Where?"
"In passing. Conversations I wasn't meant to overhear." Ren's brow furrowed. "Nobles talking about 'the old guard' and 'keeping traditions alive.' I didn't think much of it at the time."
Motoyasu slammed his fist on the table. "We have to do something! We can't just let this—" He stopped, looking at Noritoshi. "Right? We're going to do something?"
Noritoshi met his gaze. "We're going to do something. But we need to be smart about it."
"Smart how?"
"Rabiel is a Duke. A war hero. He has guards, connections, decades of accumulated power." Noritoshi's voice was calm. "If we charge in blindly, we die. And the people we're trying to save die with us."
Motoyasu looked frustrated, but he didn't argue.
Ren, however, was studying Noritoshi with new eyes. "You've thought about this. A lot."
"I've had time to think."
"Why aren't you talking to the Crown? Why aren't you going through proper channels?"
Naofumi answered before Noritoshi could. "Because the Crown might be involved."
Ren's eyes widened slightly.
"Not directly. Probably." Naofumi's voice was rough. "But the king—" He paused, remembering what Beloukas had said. "The king has the authority to stop things like this. He could have sent soldiers to Lurolona. He could have protected those children. He didn't."
Motoyasu frowned. "But the queen—"
"Is at a summit in Faubley." Noritoshi's voice was quiet.
Ren's expression darkened. "So we can't trust the Crown."
"Not yet. Maybe not ever." Noritoshi shook his head. "We need to move carefully. Gather evidence. Build a case that can't be ignored or buried."
Motoyasu looked between them. "So what do we do?"
Noritoshi was quiet for a moment. Then he looked at Naofumi.
"That depends on all of you." He met each of their eyes in turn. "This isn't something one person can do alone. If we're going to tear this system down—if we're going to save those children and everyone else who's been caught in this—we need to work together. Really together. Not just fighting the same enemy separately."
Ren's expression was thoughtful. "You're asking us to trust you."
"I'm asking you to trust each other." Noritoshi paused. "And to decide what kind of Heroes you want to be."
The table was silent.
Then Motoyasu, of all people, spoke first.
"I'm in." His voice was firm. "Whatever it takes. I'm in."
Ren looked at him, surprised. "Motoyasu—"
"I know what you're going to say." The Spear Hero's grin was gone, replaced by something Naofumi had never seen on his face before. Seriousness. "I'm not stupid. I know when something's wrong. And this?" He shook his head. "This is wrong. So I'm in."
Ren studied him for a long moment. Then he turned to Noritoshi.
"I need more information. Proof. Something concrete I can verify myself." He paused. "But if what you're saying is true..." Another pause. "Then yes. I'm in too."
Noritoshi nodded slowly. "That's all I'm asking."
"Then we start tomorrow," Naofumi said. "Beloukas is gathering intelligence on Rabiel's estate. One week, we'll have enough to begin planning."
Motoyasu blinked. "Beloukas? The slave trader? The one you—"
"Own, yes." Naofumi's voice was flat. "It's complicated."
"I'll say."
Ren, however, was frowning. "You own a slave trader. And you're using his network to gather intelligence on a noble who's been enslaving children." He paused. "That's... actually really smart."
"Don't sound so surprised."
A ghost of a smile crossed Ren's face. "I'm not. I'm impressed."
Naofumi didn't know what to do with that, so he ignored it.
Ren leaned forward. "I have some news too. I visited the Cathedral earlier today."
Noritoshi's attention sharpened. "Go on."
"I went to farm some mobs in the surrounding area, leveled up a bit." Ren's voice was measured, calm. "Then I went to the Cathedral to check if my knowledge lined up with reality. And I learned something important about the Dragon Hourglass."
Motoyasu frowned. "The what?"
"It's a structure near the Cathedral. Functions as a kind of... checkpoint, I guess?" Ren paused, organizing his thoughts. "I registered myself with it. And when I did, a timer appeared."
Naofumi blinked. "Timer?"
"Counting down to the next Wave." Ren met each of their eyes in turn. "One month. We have one month until the next one."
Silence.
Noritoshi's expression was unreadable, but his fingers had gone very still on the table. "That's... incredibly useful information."
"There's more." Ren continued. "The Hourglass has another function. When a Wave appears, anyone registered gets teleported directly to its location along with their party."
Motoyasu's eyes widened. "Teleported? Like, instantly?"
"Instantly. You don't have to travel, don't have to find it—you're just there." Ren paused. "But here's the thing: that function seems to be exclusive to Heroes. I asked around, and the locals know about the Hourglasses—they're famous landmarks, important for Class Ups and such—but the registration and teleportation? That's only for us."
Noritoshi nodded slowly. "So only Heroes can teleport to Wave locations."
"Apparently."
Kairn, who had drifted close enough to hear, spoke up from her table. "That tracks. The Hourglasses are tied to the Waves somehow—everyone knows that. But the details are always kept quiet." She shrugged. "Probably on purpose. Keeps people dependent on the Heroes."
Welst nodded thoughtfully. "If only Heroes can teleport to Wave locations, then the kingdom needs us. They can't fight the Waves without us. Their troops would only arrive after the whole place has been turned into ashes. Just like Lurolona."
"Which means they have to support us," Naofumi finished. "Even if they don't want to."
"Exactly."
Noritoshi was quiet for a moment, processing. A moment after, "Ren. Did you notice anything else at the Cathedral? Anyone watching you?"
Ren considered. "There were priests around. Cathedral staff. They were polite—deferential, even. But one of them asked how the registration process felt. Whether it was 'comfortable.' Seemed genuinely curious."
"Gathering information," Noritoshi murmured. "They don't know how it works either. Not really."
Myne's voice was soft. "And they're probably reporting to other factions who wants to know."
Everyone looked at her.
She blinked, suddenly aware of the attention. "What? It's obvious. If the Hourglass only responds to Heroes, then anyone who wants to understand it has to study Heroes using it. That means watching, asking questions, taking notes." She shrugged. "Basic intelligence gathering."
Noritoshi studied her for a moment. Something flickered in his eyes—respect, maybe. Or simply acknowledgment.
"That's a good point."
Myne preened slightly. "I have them occasionally."
Ren held up a hand. "There's something else. About the Cathedral itself."
Noritoshi's attention sharpened. "What about it?"
"I only visited once, but..." Ren frowned, organizing his thoughts. "It wasn't just priests there. There were other people. Nobles, I think—ornate clothing, expensive accessories, the kind of people who look like they own half the city."
Motoyasu blinked. "Nobles go to church? Shocking."
Ren ignored him. "They were talking. In small groups, off to the side. I couldn't hear much—I didn't want to be obvious about listening—but the fact that they were there at all..."
Noritoshi nodded slowly. "The Cathedral is a meeting place. Not just for worship, but for networking. Information exchange."
"That's what I'm thinking."
Naofumi leaned forward. "If nobles are gathering there regularly, then the priests aren't just religious figures. They're connections. Intermediaries between the Church and the nobility."
Welst's eyes widened slightly. "That's a really sharp observation. The Church's influence doesn't just come from doctrine. A large part of it comes from relationships. From being the space where powerful people interact."
Ren nodded. "If we could tap into that somehow... learn what they're discussing, who's allied with whom..."
"It could be huge." Noritoshi's voice was thoughtful. "We're flying blind when it comes to the Church. We know they have biases, especially against the Shield. But we don't know the internal politics. Who actually holds power. Where the fractures are."
Motoyasu looked between them. "So what, we just start hanging out at the Cathedral?"
"Not 'we.'" Ren shook his head. "Too many Heroes at once would draw attention. But one Hero, being quiet, being unobtrusive, being present..." He paused. "If I go regularly—before farming, after farming, make myself a familiar face—eventually someone will talk to me. Nobles love having a Hero's ear, right? They'll want to ingratiate themselves."
Kairn let out a low whistle. "Using nobles as informants. That's something Beloukas would do. That's actually brilliant."
Ren's lips twitched. "They want to use me. I'm just letting them try."
Motoyasu's brow furrowed. "So you're going to let people kiss up to you on purpose?"
"Yes."
"And that's... a strategy?"
"Information is information, Motoyasu. Doesn't matter how you get it."
The Spear Hero considered this. "Huh. I guess that makes sense." A pause. "Wait, does that mean I should let people kiss up to me too?"
"No," Noritoshi, Naofumi, and Ren said in unison.
Motoyasu deflated. "Rude."
Noritoshi ignored him, focusing on Ren. "This is good. We need to know more about the Church—their structure, their alliances, their relationship with the nobility. If the Cathedral is where those connections become visible, then having eyes there is invaluable."
Ren nodded. "I'll make it part of my routine. Every day, even if just for a little while. Become a fixture. Let them get comfortable with my presence." He paused. "If anything important comes up, I'll bring it to the nightly meetings."
"Good."
Motoyasu perked up. "Oh! That reminds me—I didn't just sit around doing nothing today. I actually found something useful!"
He reached under the table and hauled out a stack of books—four of them, thick and leather-bound, with gold lettering on the spines. He dumped them on the table with a satisfied thump.
"Ta-da! Books!" He spread his arms like he'd just produced a miracle. "This world's history, magic systems, common knowledge—everything we need to actually understand where we are. I got one for each of us."
Naofumi stared at the stack. Then at Motoyasu. Then back at the stack.
"You... bought books."
"Four of them!" Motoyasu grinned. "Figured we've been stumbling around blind long enough. Time to actually learn something, right?"
Ren reached out, pulling one of the books toward him. His expression shifted from mild curiosity to something almost like respect.
"That's... actually very thoughtful, Motoyasu." He opened the cover. "I've been meaning to find something like this, just haven't had the—"
He stopped.
His face went very still.
"Motoyasu," Ren began, his voice taking on a dark edge Naofumi had never heard before. "I can't read this."
Motoyasu blinked. "What? Of course you can. It's a book. You open it and—"
"I know how books work." Ren's voice was flat. Deadly flat. "The problem is that I literally cannot read the words inside."
Motoyasu's grin faltered. "That doesn't make any sense. We're Heroes. The weapon translates everything for us."
"Does it really translate everything?" Noritoshi said with a smirk on his face.
Motoyasu stared at him. Then at the book. Then at Ren's increasingly murderous expression.
"Wait, but—" He grabbed one of the books for himself, flipping it open to a random page. His eyes scanned the text. Once. Twice. A third time.
His face paled.
"I... uh..."
Ren picked up another book. Opened it. Stared at the pages. Closed it.
"Anyone else want to try?" His voice was dangerously calm.
Naofumi glanced at Noritoshi. They exchanged a look—a silent communication that spoke volumes.
Ah, Naofumi thought. So they didn't know yet.
Noritoshi's lips twitched—the barest hint of amusement. An opportunity.
Naofumi grabbed a book and flipped through it with exaggerated concentration. He furrowed his brow. He squinted. He turned the book upside down, then right-side up again.
"Nothing," he declared solemnly. "Just squiggles."
Noritoshi took one, scanned it briefly, and shook his head with equal gravity. "Same. Completely illegible."
All stared at Motoyasu in silence, whose face was went through several interesting colour.
Kairn, who had wandered over to see what the commotion was about, took a book and examined it. Her brow furrowed—but not in confusion.
"Uh," she said slowly. "I can read this just fine."
Everyone stared at her.
Welst stepped forward, taking another book. He opened it, read a few lines, and nodded. "Yes, this is standard Melromarc script. Quite clear, actually."
Rojeel took one look at an open page and grunted. "Nope. Never learned."
Motoyasu's mouth opened and closed. "Wait, so you two can—but we can't—"
"The Heroes can't read it," Kairn confirmed. "We can. Apparently."
Naofumi bit back a smile. "So the four legendary Heroes, summoned to save the world, are functionally illiterate."
Noritoshi nodded sagely. "It's a humbling start."
Ren shot them both a look that promised future retribution.
"Motoyasu. Please tell me you at least looked at these before buying them."
Motoyasu's face went through several interesting colors. "Well, no, I—they're books. You don't read books before you buy them, you just—"
"You absolutely read books before you buy them." Ren's voice was strained. "That's literally the entire point of browsing."
"I was excited, okay?!" Motoyasu's voice rose defensively. "I saw books and thought 'knowledge' and just—grabbed them!"
Silence.
Kairn, who had been flipping through one of the books with obvious enjoyment, snorted. "So you bought four copies of books in a language you can't read, without checking if you could read them, and now we have... what exactly?"
"Emergency kindling?" Motoyasu offered weakly.
Ren closed his eyes. "Motoyasu."
"Yes?"
"Please stop talking."
"But—"
"Please."
Motoyasu subsided, grumbling.
Welst, ever the diplomat, cleared his throat. "Well, they're not useless. Kairn and I can read them. We can summarize the important information for everyone else."
Kairn nodded. "Yeah, I can do that. Might take a while, but—" She flipped another page. "—this one's actually pretty interesting. History of the Three Heroes Church. Could be useful."
Naofumi nodded. "Okay. That works. Kairn, Welst—you're on book duty. Anything relevant to what we're planning, flag it."
"Got it."
Motoyasu perked up slightly. "So I did help? Even though I couldn't—"
"You bought books you can't read without checking," Ren said flatly. "You're not getting credit for this."
"That's harsh."
"Be grateful I didn't curse you out."
Noritoshi, who had been quietly observing, spoke up. His voice was calm, but there was something thoughtful beneath it.
"Actually, this is a good reminder." He looked at Ren and Motoyasu. "We need to learn."
Ren frowned. "Learn what?"
"To read." Noritoshi gestured at the books. "The script. The language. However long it takes." He glanced at Naofumi, then back at the others. "All of us should."
Motoyasu's expression shifted to something like horror. "You mean... like... school?"
"Yes. Like school."
"But we're Heroes!"
"Heroes who can't read contracts, or signs, or letters from people who might be trying to trick us." Noritoshi's voice was patient but firm. "You're going to get duped by the first villager who hands you a document if you're not careful."
Motoyasu opened his mouth—probably to protest—then closed it. His face scrunched up in agony.
Ren's expression shifted. Thoughtful now. Considering.
"He's not wrong," Ren admitted quietly. "We've been lucky so far. But if we're going to be operating independently... we need to be able to read."
Naofumi nodded slowly. "Makes sense. I'm in."
Motoyasu sighed dramatically. "Fine. I guess if everyone else is doing it..."
Kairn exchanged a glance with Welst, then shrugged. "Alright. We can do lessons. Probably not full-time, but a few hours a day when we're not busy."
Welst nodded. "I have some experience teaching. The basics shouldn't take too long—the script is phonetic, and the grammar is relatively straightforward for motivated students."
"Motivated," Motoyasu repeated flatly. "Right."
But then Ren shook his head. "Actually, that won't be necessary."
Kairn blinked. "What do you mean?"
"My party can teach me." Ren gestured toward the table where his four adventurers sat watching. "They're locals. They know the language. And they're already sworn to me—it makes more sense for them to handle my education."
Motoyasu's eyes lit up. "Oh! Good point!" He waved toward the table where his three female adventurers waited. "Elena and the others can teach me too! No offense to your people, but—"
"None taken," Kairn said dryly. "Saves us the work."
Welst looked slightly disappointed but nodded. "That is more efficient. Your parties will be with you constantly anyway. They can integrate lessons into your daily routine."
Noritoshi considered this, then nodded. "Makes sense. Use your own people. Build trust with them while you learn."
Ren glanced at him. "You're not going to argue?"
"Why would I? It's practical." Noritoshi shrugged. "Just make sure they actually teach you. No slacking."
Motoyasu puffed up indignantly. "I don't slack!"
"You bought four books without checking if you could read them."
"That's—that's different!"
Ren's lips twitched. "Is it?"
Motoyasu deflated. "This is bullying. Hero-on-hero bullying."
"Hush, you'd be fine."
.
.
.
.
.
.
Noritoshi was finally alone. He looked at the room he will be sleeping in for tonight.
It was small. A bed, a nightstand, a window looking out onto a dark alley. Nothing fancy, but it was clean and the door locked. After the day he'd had, that was enough.
Noritoshi sat on the edge of the bed, back straight, eyes open. Sleep wouldn't come. Not yet. His mind was too active, turning over the events of the past hours like a craftsman examining flawed goods.
He reached for his convergence—or rather, he reached for the space where it should have been. His hand closed on empty air.
The convergence was gone. Exhausted. The technique required compressing massive amounts of blood into a dense orb no bigger than his palm, maintaining that compression through sheer force of will. He'd pushed it too hard during the fight with the battle slaves. Too much blood manipulation too quickly. Now there was nothing left to draw on.
For a moment, he felt its absence like a missing limb. Then he set the thought aside. He'd recuperate and remake it again.
He had to sleep now. He hadn't slept yesterday. And then today's fight, which should have been routine, had turned into a drawn-out tactical nightmare. His cursed energy reserves were almost completely drained. He'd used too much blood manipulation, too many techniques, pushed himself far past reasonable limits.
He checked his internal reserves. The assessment came back less than ideal.
Five percent. Maybe less.
If he had to fight right now, he could manage a few minutes at most. One serious technique would empty him completely. After that, he'd be a normal human—no enhancements, no regeneration, no tricks. Just a man with a bow who was too tired to draw it properly.
He needed rest.
But his mind drifted to Beloukas.
The slave trader had stopped being a threat the moment Noritoshi understood what the slave crest could do. The demonstration had been... illuminating. And horrific.
A slave couldn't lie. If they tried, the crest would punish them—pain, immediate and unavoidable, until the truth came out. They couldn't disobey orders either. And the orders didn't even need to be specific. The crest interpreted the master's intention, their will, and enforced compliance with that. If a slave failed to act in accordance with what their master truly wanted, the crest would activate.
Beloukas had proven it. Willingly. Noritoshi still wasn't sure if that made the man brave or simply pragmatic.
The demonstration itself had been difficult to watch. Noritoshi had seen violence before—had caused plenty of it himself. But this was different. This was a person's body betraying them, contorting against their will, because a piece of magic decided they'd stepped out of line. The screams hadn't been theatrical. They'd been real.
Good thing he'd only been with Myne at the time. Naofumi didn't need to see that. Not yet. Hopefully not ever. But he knew such thinking could only remain a wishful dream.
But the result was clear: Beloukas was reliable. Not because he'd chosen to be, but because he literally couldn't be otherwise. His blood had confirmed it during the demonstration—no deception, no hidden plots, no secret reservations. The man was, for all practical purposes, an extension of Naofumi's will now.
It was efficient. It was also deeply unsettling.
Noritoshi filed that thought away for later and turned his attention to a different puzzle.
Myne.
His eyes drifted toward the wall that separated his room from hers. He could picture her clearly—the way she moved, the way she spoke, the way she watched. She was observant. Intelligent. And she was hiding something.
Her bearing gave her away. The way she carried herself, the careful politeness that never quite reached her eyes, the unconscious assumptions she made about how the world worked—all of it pointed to someone raised with privilege. At the very least, a rich merchant's daughter. At most...
She could be the princess, for all I know.
But that wasn't what troubled him.
She was seducing him.
Obviously. Deliberately. With the kind of practiced charm that suggested experience. The way she touched his sleeve. The way she leaned close. The way she'd asked—so casually, so sweetly—if he wanted to share her room.
He'd refused, of course. Gently. Politely. With just enough hesitation to make it seem like he was tempted.
That hesitation had been manufactured. Blood manipulation, subtle and controlled, pushing color to his cheeks at exactly the right moment. A flush of embarrassment. A hint of interest he didn't feel. The kind of reaction that made pursuers think they were succeeding.
It was a trick he'd learned young. As the Heir, he'd had suitors crawling out of the woodwork from the moment he hit puberty. Daughters of nobles, sons of merchants, even a few adults who should have known better. They'd all used the same tactics—the accidental touches, the lingering looks, the convenient proximity.
And they'd all been managed the same way. Let them think they were making progress. Keep them engaged, interested, hopeful. Use their pursuit to gather information, build connections, create leverage. Never let them close enough to actually matter.
It was exhausting. But it worked.
Myne was no different. Smarter than most, certainly. More subtle. But still playing the same game.
The question was why.
Did she suspect something? Had she caught onto his act? He didn't think so. His performance had been flawless—years of practice made perfect. The blushes, the averted eyes, the moments of apparent vulnerability. They were all calculated. All deliberate.
But Myne was sharp. Sharper than she let on. If anyone might see through him, it would be her.
Or maybe she wasn't trying to see through anything. Maybe she was just doing what girls like her did—attaching herself to the strongest available male, using whatever tools she had to secure her position. In a world as brutal as this one, that kind of pragmatism made sense.
Either way, the result was the same.
He couldn't let his guard down.
Not against her. Not against Motoyasu's party of doting women. Not against Ren's wary adventurers. Not even against his own party members.
The Heir of his house hadn't survived this long by being naive.
He lay back on the bed, staring at the ceiling. His body screamed for rest. His cursed energy reserves flickered at the edge of emptiness. The convergence was gone—temporarily, but still gone. If someone attacked right now, he'd be in real trouble.
He closed his eyes.
Sleep finally embraced him.
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Hey guys. Author here. I just wanted to share some fanfictions that became the inspiration for this fanfiction. So first we got Ambition of the Red Princess. This one is my favorite. Second would be The Rising of Four Heroes. The last one is Jujutsu Kaisen Minus One. I really recommend you to read those. They're very enjoyable. For me at least.