There are moments in life where everything you've done, everything you've achieved, and everything you've survived somehow leads you to a situation so unbelievably mundane and humiliating that you start questioning reality itself.
This is one of those moments.
I'm Ren Arclight.
Once, I sealed the Demon King.
Once, I stood at the center of an event that should have been recorded in history, remembered, studied, and exaggerated beyond recognition.
Instead, the invasion simply… stopped.
No explanation.
No hero.
No story.
Just silence.
Which, to be fair, was exactly how I wanted it.
Unfortunately, life has a way of compensating for that kind of peace.
Because now, instead of being remembered as anything remotely impressive, I'm sitting in the lobby of the Hunter's Guild, waiting to be reprimanded for destroying an F-rank dungeon—a farming dungeon, a beginner training ground, a place specifically designed so that nothing catastrophic would ever happen.
And yet, somehow, here we are.
I lean back slightly in my seat and let out a slow sigh, the kind that has long since lost its emotional weight and settled into something habitual.
Which, to be very clear, I did not even do.
I am simply… accepting responsibility.
Across from me, the lobby stretches wide, filled with movement and noise. Hunters walk in and out, some carrying weapons, others chatting casually, a few arguing over something that sounds like payment or rankings.
Monitors line the walls displaying dungeon statuses, while the quest board remains crowded with requests and the reception counters process transactions in a steady rhythm.
It's busy, functional, and completely normal—exactly the kind of place where nothing unusual should stand out, which unfortunately makes our situation stand out even more.
"Papa," Ruri says softly, "where is this?"
I glance down at her, noting the way she sits properly, hands folded on her lap. "This is the Hunter's Guild," I explain. "Awakeners register here as Hunters. They take on dungeon clearing, resource gathering, monster extermination—things like that."
She nods slowly, taking that in. "It's… like work?"
"It is work," I reply. "One of the most common professions right now."
Karin, meanwhile, is already half-standing on her chair, leaning forward like she's about to physically dive into whatever catches her attention first.
"Papa, what's that?" she asks, pointing at a monitor.
"Dungeon status board."
"That?"
"Quest bulletin."
"That?"
"Reception desk."
"That?"
"Material exchange."
She points again without missing a beat, turning so fast I'm half convinced she's trying to catalog the entire building in one go.
"That?"
"Party recruitment."
"That?"
"Vending machine."
"That?"
I follow her finger.
A catgirl.
"…Hunter," I say.
"That?"
I shift slightly.
A lizardman.
"Also a Hunter," I add, already knowing exactly where this is going.
Her eyes light up like she's just discovered an entirely new category of entertainment, which—unfortunately—is not wrong.
I look at her carefully, just long enough for her to notice. "Don't even think about exploring."
She freezes mid-movement, then slowly turns toward me, already preparing a defense. "But I haven't even—"
"No," I cut in before that sentence has a chance to become a problem.
She sinks back into her seat, arms crossed, cheeks puffed in quiet protest. Temporary compliance.
Beside me, Hikari sits quietly on my lap, which is immediately suspicious.
"Hikari is behaving," she whispers, like this is classified information.
"I can see that," I reply.
She nods proudly, clearly pleased with herself.
I give it a few seconds, watching her out of the corner of my eye.
This will not last.
Eventually, a receptionist approaches. "Mr. Ren Arclight? The Guildmaster is waiting for you."
"Of course he is," I mutter under my breath as I stand, lifting Hikari with me. She adjusts immediately, holding onto me while still trying to maintain her "behaving" status. Ruri takes my hand without needing to be told, while Karin grabs Ruri's other hand a second later, like it's the most natural thing in the world.
Formation.
We follow the receptionist through quieter hallways, the noise of the lobby fading behind us with each step. The shift in atmosphere is immediate—less chaotic, more controlled—and I find myself sighing again as we walk.
Ren Arclight, the man who sealed the Demon King—a fact known by exactly two people: my younger sister, and the man waiting behind the door ahead.
Which means the person about to lecture me knows exactly how ridiculous this situation is.
We stop, and the receptionist knocks.
"Guildmaster, they're here."
"Send them in."
We enter.
The office is simple but imposing, with a large desk at the center and very little else to distract from it. Behind the desk sits a man built like he's fought more battles than he's talked about.
Aaron Shanks—Guildmaster, and the only person aside from my sister who knows what actually happened three years ago.
"Sit," he says without looking up.
We do. He gestures for the receptionist to leave, and once the door closes, silence settles in—not awkward, not tense, just deliberate.
Then Aaron exhales, long and tired, before finally looking up.
"Come on, Master. That dungeon was extremely important. Closing it without authorization is going to cost the Guild a lot."
"I gathered," I reply, because pretending ignorance would make this worse. In reality, I gathered just enough to know this conversation was going to be unpleasant, not enough to avoid it.
"No, I don't think you did," he says flatly. "That wasn't just a random gate. That was a controlled farming site—scheduled rotations, registered parties, steady output. People rely on that place."
"I'm aware," I say, keeping my tone even.
"Are you?" he presses, leaning forward just slightly. "Because from where I'm sitting, it doesn't look like it."
I don't answer that. There isn't an answer that improves this.
"It was an accident," I say instead, which is technically true and practically useless.
"You accidentally destroyed a dungeon core," he repeats, slower this time.
"Yes."
He stares at me, and I stare back. The silence stretches—not loud, not tense, just deliberate. He doesn't believe me—of course he doesn't—but he also doesn't push immediately, which somehow feels worse than if he did.
"How?" he asks instead.
"After defeating the boss, I miscalculated a follow-up spell," I reply.
"You?" he says.
"Yes."
"Miscalculated?"
"It happens," I say. Not often. Not to me. But saying that would only make this more complicated.
He studies me for a moment, eyes narrowing just slightly. "To you?"
"Occasionally," I answer.
He doesn't buy it. Not even a little. But after a beat, he lets it go anyway, which tells me he's choosing not to dig further—for his sake, not mine.
"Why were you even in an F-rank dungeon?" he asks.
"Training," I reply.
He doesn't respond immediately. Instead, his gaze shifts to the three of them, lingering longer than before as if he's trying to reconcile what he's seeing with what he already knows—and more importantly, what he expects to see.
"Them?" he asks, slower this time.
"My kids," I answer, like that explains anything at all.
There's a pause, just long enough to become uncomfortable.
"Kids," he repeats, like the word itself is questionable.
"Yes."
"You're serious."
"Unfortunately," I say, because denying it won't improve my situation.
He leans back slightly, studying me like I've just told him something fundamentally incorrect about reality. "I didn't even know you were married… let alone have kids."
There's a look there—not just confusion, but calculation. He's trying to piece together a timeline that doesn't exist.
I stiffen slightly. "W-well— it's not— I mean—" I stop, because that sentence is already collapsing, then force it out before I make this worse. "Their mother is overseas."
Silence.
He doesn't react immediately, which is worse.
"Overseas," he repeats.
"Yes."
"Doing what?"
I pause, immediately aware this is a mistake.
"Work," I say.
There's a beat of silence before he reacts, and in that brief moment, I almost convince myself that passed.
It didn't.
He stares at me for a second longer than necessary. "You're terrible at lying."
"I'm not lying," I reply.
"You're just not telling the truth," he corrects.
That… is uncomfortably accurate.
I don't respond, because anything I say from here only makes that statement stronger.
Before he can continue—
"Hikari's Mama?!" Hikari blurts out, suddenly very invested in this conversation. "Where—"
I cover her mouth immediately. "Later," I mutter, keeping my tone low.
Aaron watches all of this with a deeply unimpressed expression, like he's reconsidering several life decisions at once—and possibly questioning why he's still involved in mine.
Karin, meanwhile, has started poking something on the desk. "Don't," I say. "I wasn't going to break it," she replies.
"That's not the concern," I say.
Aaron leans back. "So let me get this straight. You took your newly awakened kids into a low-rank dungeon for training… and accidentally destroyed the core."
"Yes."
"And you expect me to believe that?"
"I expect you to accept it," I reply.
He stares at me for a long moment, weighing something I don't have the context for, then exhales. "…Fine. I'll come up with something."
Relief settles in—but only briefly, because I know better than to trust that feeling.
"Just this once," he adds.
"Of course."
"And you owe me."
"I figured."
He gives me a look that suggests I haven't fully grasped the scale of that statement.
That is a problem for later.
I lean back slightly, exhaling quietly as the tension drains just enough to be noticeable.
Because somehow, despite everything that just happened, I have a very strong feeling this still isn't the worst part of my day—and that is significantly more concerning than anything we've discussed so far.
***
The atmosphere hasn't even had time to fully settle after that conversation when Aaron exhales again, longer this time, like he's trying to physically push the problem out of existence. It doesn't work. It never does.
Problems don't disappear just because you're tired of them. If anything, they multiply—and in my experience, they tend to do it efficiently.
"Alright," he says, shifting in his seat and looking at me again, then at the three of them.
"Now that you mention it… since you're already here, you might as well register your kids while you're at it." His tone is casual, but I can already tell this isn't just a suggestion. It's the kind of casual that comes with paperwork.
I blink once, considering it. It's actually reasonable, which immediately makes me suspicious. Reasonable things rarely stay that way for long.
"Are you sure they're your kids?" he adds, just as casually.
There it is.
I sigh, slow and tired, leaning slightly back in my chair. "Of course they are," I reply, not even bothering to sound offended. That would only make it worse, and I don't have the energy for that kind of performance.
Aaron doesn't respond immediately. Instead, he leans forward slightly, elbows resting on the desk, fingers loosely interlocked as he studies me with that same sharp, analyzing gaze that has made more than a few Hunters uncomfortable over the years.
"You know," he says, "no one escapes my appraisal eyes."
Right.
That.
Aaron Shanks. Early awakener. High-level appraisal user. Clairvoyance. Psychic resonance. A walking violation of privacy laws that somehow got promoted to Guildmaster.
His eyes glow faintly.
There's no dramatic buildup, no chant, no visible casting circle. Just intent—and then the scan begins.
Normally, status information is private. You choose whether to reveal it or not. That's how it's supposed to work.
People like Aaron don't follow that rule.
They bypass it.
I remain still, outwardly calm, even as I mentally note one important thing.
Good thing nothing can bypass Arcane Concealment.
Aaron's gaze shifts between them, one by one, taking in their information with quiet focus.
"…Ruri Arclight," he murmurs. "Age six. Water affinity. Healer-type support resonance. Low mana output. Stable physical parameters."
Ruri straightens slightly when she hears her name, then nods politely like she's being introduced in a formal setting. "That's me," she says softly.
Aaron pauses for a fraction of a second before continuing, like he's double-checking something he doesn't fully trust.
"Karin Arclight. Fire affinity. Combustion resonance. Elevated aggression indicators."
Karin immediately frowns. "I'm not aggressive," she says, crossing her arms.
I glance at her briefly, then away. "Debatable," I mutter.
"Papa!"
Aaron ignores us and moves on.
"Hikari Arclight. Earth affinity. Barrier-type resonance. Mana density… slightly above average for her age."
Hikari beams, puffing her chest slightly. "Hikari is strong," she declares proudly.
"…So it seems," Aaron replies under his breath.
He leans back after that, eyes dimming as the skill deactivates. For a moment, he doesn't say anything. Then he looks at me and gives a small nod.
"Seems like you're at least not lying about them being your kids, Master."
I exhale quietly. Not relief exactly—but something close to it. Enough to loosen the tension in my shoulders by a fraction.
Because while he didn't see through it… that doesn't mean I'm comfortable.
Aaron continues observing them, his gaze softer now but still analytical.
Ruri is sitting properly, hands folded neatly, posture straight like she belongs in a completely different setting.
Karin is very clearly trying not to move, which somehow makes it even more obvious that she wants to move.
Hikari is looking around like every object in the room is waiting to be discovered.
Aaron exhales again, slower this time. "I still didn't expect you to have kids," he says. "You're what, twenty-seven?"
"Around that," I reply.
"You married young."
I let out a small, awkward chuckle, scratching the back of my head. "Well… things happen to simple people," I say.
Aaron deadpans immediately. "Simple doesn't apply to you at all."
That is, unfortunately, correct.
Karin, meanwhile, has started looking around the office again, her attention drifting toward a small decorative object on the desk.
I don't even look.
"Karin. Don't."
"I'm not doing anything," she says.
"You're about to," I reply.
She pouts again but withdraws her hand.
Progress.
Minimal, but progress.
Aaron pulls out a stack of documents from his desk and slides them toward me. "Fill these out," he says. "Submit them at the reception. Tell them I handled the screening myself. No need for an Awakener test."
I glance over the forms—names, ages, basic information. Registration. Nothing complicated.
Which means it will somehow become complicated.
"Take care of them," Aaron continues, his tone a bit more serious now. "And please, don't destroy another dungeon."
I sigh, picking up the papers. "No promises," I say.
He stares at me.
I stare back.
There's a moment where neither of us says anything, and I can practically see the regret forming in his expression.
That's fair.
I stand up, adjusting Hikari in my arms as she shifts slightly, still trying to behave but clearly losing focus. Ruri immediately takes my hand, and Karin grabs onto Ruri's other hand like it's part of some unspoken system.
Formation. Again.
We're about to leave when Aaron calls out. "Master."
I stop and turn slightly. His expression has changed—less annoyed now, more focused, the kind that usually means the conversation isn't actually over.
"There's something else," he says. "A disturbance on the outskirts of the city."
I don't like the sound of that, and judging from his tone, I'm not supposed to.
"I asked Ruruka to handle it," he continues. "She reported that she defeated the boss."
That part is normal. Ruruka handling things is rarely the problem.
"But the core didn't appear."
That part is not.
I pause, my grip on the papers tightening slightly as the implication settles in.
Core didn't appear.
That's not a delay. Not a variation. Not a minor anomaly you can ignore.
That's wrong.
"Would you check it out when you're free?" he asks.
I let out a long breath, already feeling the problem forming. "Fine," I say. "I'll look into it."
Because clearly, my day isn't complicated enough yet.
We leave the office after that, stepping back into the quieter hallway. For a moment, I don't say anything, letting the thought turn over in my head.
Core didn't appear.
That doesn't happen. Even low-rank anomalies follow basic rules, and dungeon cores are about as fundamental as it gets.
Something's off.
I push the thought aside for now. There are more immediate problems.
"Papa, who was that big guy?" Hikari asks, looking up at me.
"Guildmaster," I reply.
"What's Guildmaster?"
"Boss," Karin answers immediately.
"Oh," Hikari nods. "Scary boss."
"Accurate," I mutter.
"What's that paper?" Hikari continues, pointing at the documents in my hand.
"Registration forms," I reply.
"What's registration?"
"Work," I say.
"Hikari will work?"
"Eventually. Not today."
"Okay," she says, satisfied with that answer.
Karin, meanwhile, is practically glowing with excitement. "We're going to be Hunters?"
"Something like that," I reply.
"Can I fight monsters again?"
"…We'll see," I say carefully, because the honest answer is a problem waiting to happen.
Ruri looks up at me quietly, her expression gentle.
I glance down at her and let out a small breath. "Thank you," I say.
She blinks. "…For what, Papa?"
I pat her head lightly. "For being you," I answer.
She tilts her head, confused but accepting. "…You're welcome, Papa?"
I look away slightly.
My sanity anchor. The only reason this hasn't escalated further.
We return to the lobby, and the noise immediately wraps around us again. I find a spot and start filling out the forms, taking my time to make sure everything looks normal.
Carefully normal. Not too detailed. Not too vague. Just enough to pass without inviting questions.
Karin leans over my shoulder. "Papa, what are you writing?"
"Paperwork," I say.
"Is it fun?"
"No."
She immediately loses interest.
Hikari tries to peek as well. "Hikari wants to write."
"No," I say.
"Okay," she replies, surprisingly obedient.
Ruri just watches quietly.
Eventually, I finish and head to the reception desk. "These were approved by the Guildmaster," I say, handing them over.
The receptionist checks them, then nods. "We'll process these and contact you when the IDs are ready."
"Understood," I reply.
That part, at least, is simple.
We step outside the building shortly after. The air feels different—quieter, less suffocating—and I take a slow breath before exhaling.
"I knew things would escalate quickly," I mutter, looking down at the three of them—one curious, one careful, one chaos.
"…But not this much."
I rub my temple, already feeling the next problem lining up.
There's only one conclusion I can come to.
I need help.
And knowing my luck… that's going to be another problem.
*****
End of Chapter 10
RETIREMENT STATUS REPORT
Owner: Ren Arclight
Former Occupation: Demon King Slayer / World-Saving Archmage
Current Occupation: Guardian of Unregistered Existential Problems
Peaceful Life Goal:
Maintain anonymity, avoid responsibility, and survive on a stable budget.
Today's Activities:
*Reported to Hunter's Guild for dungeon-related incident
*Survived interrogation by Guildmaster (partial success)
*Executed low-quality deception regarding family status
*Prevented excessive information leakage (barely)
*Allowed Hikari to almost expose non-existent mother
*Stopped Karin from tampering with Guildmaster's desk
*Registered three dragon daughters as official Hunters
*Maintained Arcane Concealment under high-level appraisal
*Accepted new investigation request (unpaid)
New Developments:
*Guildmaster now suspicious of personal life timeline
*Ruri continues to function as primary sanity anchor
*Karin exhibits persistent curiosity toward restricted objects
*Hikari capable of initiating dangerous conversations at any time
*All three successfully passed Hunter registration screening
*External anomaly detected (missing dungeon core)
Guild Status:
Reputation: Stable (for now)
Trust Level: Questionable
Surveillance Risk: Increased
Peaceful Retirement Stability:
100% Before Doorbell
0% Dragons Hatched
–9000% Public Exposure Risk
–30000% Financial Collapse
–60000% Dungeon Incident
–100000% Guild Involvement
–150000% Forced Back Into Work
Current Retirement Status:
Actively Deteriorating
Immediate Consequences:
*Guild cover-up required
*Debt owed to Guildmaster
*Increased scrutiny from high-level personnel
*Mandatory follow-up mission (anomaly investigation)
Operational Assessment:
Mission Outcome: Contained
Execution Quality: Suspicious
Emotional Status:
Resignation - Concern - Mild Regret
Future Outlook:
Complications Imminent
Archmage Personal Statement:
"I should have lied better."
Reality's Response:
"You are now required to investigate the problem."