Fran was patrolling the darker streets when a familiar ring echoed in her mind.
____
[Ding! Group Quest Activated]
Objective: Save the royal twins, defeat Black Fang Valuza, expose traitors, infiltrate the palace, and protect Seedrun from collapse.
World: Kuroneko's World
Required Participants: 0/1
____
Fran blinked, gripping Teacher's hilt. "A quest…?"
Before she could ponder further, the Dimensional Chat window flickered open.
____
Pervert Sage: Oho? A rescue-the-princess type quest, except it's twins. I approve.
Kazuma-sama: Wait wait wait, political conspiracy AND a monster boss fight? Sounds like death flags to me, pass.
White Lady: Eeeeh, you cowards. Slavery + corruption? Trash deserve a good webbing. Let's gooooo!
God of Hope: Fran, if you take this mission, know that it will shape more than just one kingdom.
Delicious Tuna: …This is real? This chat isn't some prank? If I join this mission, time will stop in my world, right?"
God of Hope: Yep
Delicious Tuna: Then I'll go. I need to see this with my own eyes… if this chat is really real!
[System Notice: Time in each participant's home world will freeze until quest completion.]
[Delicious Tuna has joined the Quest.]
____
Master Bobon voice rang in Fran's head. "Looks like we've got company, Fran."
Fran nodded, cat ears twitching. "Then let's go save them."
A young girl stepped forward as the dimensional light faded, adjusting her stance with excitement buzzing in her chest. Before her stood a girl clad in a dark-blue and black battle dress traced with golden sigils—an outfit that balanced military discipline with aristocratic elegance. A high collar framed her face, a sapphire brooch gleamed at her neck, and the hilt of a sword peeked over her shoulder.
Kiana blinked. "Ehhh… are you Kuroneko or… Fran?"
The cat-eared girl gave a curt nod, her crimson eyes steady. "Fran. And you must be… Tuna? Or rather, Kiana Kaslana?"
Kiana grinned, puffing out her chest. "That's me! Sooo… what's our first move?" Her eyes sparkled, curiosity and eagerness mixing like a kid about to open a present.
Fran studied her carefully, tilting her head. This newcomer had an aura of strength, but also the air of someone who hadn't yet seen true ugliness. Her voice came quiet, almost cold. "You're certain you want to follow me? What we're walking into… isn't pretty. I can guarantee that."
Kiana's smile faltered for a second, but she quickly clenched her fists, determination shining through. "I'm stronger than I look, you know! I've trained as a Valkyrie—to fight, to protect. I swear I won't hold you back."
Fran exhaled slowly, as if measuring those words. Finally, she gave a small sigh and turned toward the dark alley leading deeper into Seedrun. "…Fine. Then keep close. And be quiet. No unnecessary noise."
Kiana saluted with a playful smirk. "Aye aye, Captain Kitty."
Fran's cat ears twitched at the nickname, but she didn't comment—she simply walked forward, her shadow stretching in the flickering torchlight. Kiana hurried after, still brimming with energy, unaware that the stink of the evil den awaited them just ahead.
•
The cell block reeked of damp straw and fear. Cages lined the walls like teeth; soft, terrified faces peered out from between rusted bars. Men with cruel smiles knocked coins together and traded passes of dark business like it was a market day.
A shadow ripped through that little world.
Fran dropped from above—no herald, no warning—landing with the lethal grace of a stalking cat. Her cloak snapped; her blade sang as it slipped free. In the cramped corridor the sound was a whip. Hands went for weapons. Voices turned to screams.
"Time to take out the trash," Fran said, low and flat.
She moved like a storm. One sweep of the sword and a man's knife fell from his hand; another step and a thug was on the floor, groaning and out of it before his head hit. None of it theatrical—precise, efficient, the minimum necessary to stop them from breathing easy again. Her eyes were a blade that didn't need sharpening.
Behind her, two small faces in a cage widened until the whites gleamed. One child whispered something.
Fran didn't look to find an answer in a voice. She stepped between a trembling boy and a man who slurred a threat, and the man's bravado dissolved at the look she gave him. He crumpled, not with melodrama but with the abruptness of someone who realizes life just rearranged itself without asking permission.
From the doorway, a light spilled in. Kiana, breathless from the dimensional step-in, blinked at the carnage and the stillness. She had expected a rescue—maybe a fight, maybe danger—but not this kind of cold tidy violence. Her hand went to the hilt at her hip out of reflex; her cheeks flushed bone-white.
Kiana's jaw tightened. "Isn't this too much?"
"These people—they're parasites. No purpose left. Leaving them alive only poisons other lives. If you dig into why they exist, you'd see the same thing." Her gaze leveled with Kiana's, not pleading but flat. "You'll understand when you search deep enough."
Kiana's face flushed scarlet with equal parts indignation and confusion. "You can't just decide who lives and who dies—" she started, but her bravado trembled in the face of Fran's unblinking certainty.
Fran sheathed her sword with a single practiced movement and turned toward the cages. "This is reality," she said, quieter now. "Welcome to it."
Kiana watched Fran move among the rescued—the quiet competence of the girl who carried a blade and an entire world of answers in her steps. For the first time since stepping through the dimensional glow, Kiana's bright certainty met the bruised gray of a place that had no patience for hope without teeth.
She swallowed. Whatever naïve certainties she had brought with her felt suddenly soft and easily broken. Fran's words didn't feel like a doctrine; they felt like a verdict.
"Such a graceful…" one child whispered.
"…yet deadly beast," another finished.
Inside one cage, two children—better dressed than the others—clutched the bars, eyes wide. The boy looked about twelve, the girl a little younger.
"W-who are you?" the boy stammered.
"My name is Fran," she said simply, slicing the bars as though they were tofu. The locks fell with dull clanks, the children tumbling out free. She gathered their slave contracts into her palm and burned them with a flicker of magic.
"T-thank you… ngh…" the girl winced, bruises visible on her arms.
Fran didn't hesitate—her hand glowed faintly as she cast a healing spell. The pain eased, color returning to the girl's cheeks.
"Are we safe now? We can't let our guard down yet," the girl whispered urgently. "From what I counted… there were at least twenty-seven slavers in this building—"
"Twenty-seven?" Fran's voice was matter-of-fact. "Then you can rest. I've already defeated them all."
The twins gaped, stunned. Her age, her words, and her calmness clashed so violently it left them speechless. She looked their age… yet spoke like someone who'd lived through a hundred battlefields.
Together, they left the building, children trailing behind. But the outside world wasn't done with them yet.
On the road, a figure in armor appeared—broad-shouldered, mustached, sharp-eyed. Before Fran could speak, he lunged protectively toward the twins.
He never touched them. Fran moved first—one flick, one step—and the man found himself on the ground with his sword wrenched away, too stunned to breathe.
•
Later, inside a noble hotel, the tension settled. The armored man knelt on one knee, hand across his chest. His voice rang with dignity:
"My name is Salut Orland, servant and guardian to the Prince and Princess. You have my eternal gratitude, Miss Fran."
Fran regarded him coolly, then turned to the children.
The boy straightened with formal poise. "We owe you a proper introduction. I am Fult Phyllius, Prince of the Kingdom of Phyllius."
His sister followed, curtsying with a graceful smile. "And I am Satya Phyllius, Princess—and loyal sister to this foolhardy Prince."
Their words shone with elegance, framed by noble bearing.
Kiana blinked, then laughed nervously. "Prince… and Princess? Really? Wow. Okay, so this is a fantasy world."
Before anyone could respond, the door banged open.
An elderly man stormed in, his robes swishing. "Where have you two been?! My blood nearly ran cold when I heard you were missing!" His gaze swept the room, then froze on the rescued children. His voice trembled with suspicion. "And… these kids? Don't tell me—you went out to buy slaves?"
The twins stiffened, unsure what to say.
"No," Satya said quickly. "These children guided us when we were lost."
The old man's eyes narrowed, then shifted toward Fran and Kiana. "And who might these guests be? A demi-human… and a girl in strange armor?"
Kiana puffed her cheeks. "H-hey! My costume is not weird!"
The twins gestured subtly, trying to warn Fran not to say too much. But Fran ignored the signal.
She stepped forward, eyes sharp as ever. "These children aren't strays—they're victims. If not for me, they'd be slaves right now. And you," her gaze bore into the old man, "you call yourself a guardian? Letting them wander in danger until someone else had to clean up your failure?"
The old man blanched, his face draining of color. "I-Is that true?" he whispered, looking back at the twins with horror.
Fult and Satya exchanged a glance—silent, but guilty.
The chamberlain, old yet dignified, bowed low before Fran. His silvered brows furrowed with sincerity as he spoke.
"Miss Fran… words alone cannot convey our gratitude. To save not only His Highness and Her Highness, but the innocent children as well… our kingdom is indebted to you. Whatever reward you ask, it shall be granted."
Fran shifted uncomfortably and waved her hand. "I don't need rewards. If you really want to thank me, then give those children a decent life. Feed them, protect them, treat them as humans again. That's enough."
The old man blinked, stunned by the simplicity of her request. Behind him, the prince and princess gazed at Fran with wide, shining eyes—the kind of pure admiration that only children carried.
It wasn't gratitude alone. It was devotion. Like they were seeing a storybook hero standing in flesh before them.
"…You are but a young lady," the chamberlain said softly, "yet your presence surpasses nobles and knights I have seen in all my years." He straightened, voice firm. "Very well. We will honor your wish. Those children will be given sanctuary and protection under our sovereign."
Fran gave a small nod. That was enough.
•
Later, within the noble hotel, the princess herself insisted on guiding Fran and Kiana to the private home baths reserved for royalty. The scent of perfumed oils and hot spring minerals drifted from the doors ahead, a welcome change from the stench of blood and iron.
As they walked, Satya stole glances at Fran. Then, with a mischievous giggle, she leaned closer and sniffed lightly at her hair.
"Mmmm… you smell so good, Fran. Like flowers mixed with… adventure. Refined, but wild. Are you perhaps… a noble from some faraway land?" Her eyes sparkled with curiosity. "Your hair, your skin—so smooth and radiant. Surely you have secrets! Would you share them with me?"
Fran stiffened, a bead of sweat sliding down her cheek. Her thoughts immediately went to her husband. 'This is his fault. Always fussing over me with massages, healthy meals, and those ridiculous spa sessions…'
Out loud, she muttered, "I'm no noble. And… aren't you a little too close?"
"Am I?" Satya's laugh was like a bell. She clung to Fran's arm more tightly, smiling up at her. "Hehe… it's just, not every day a girl like me meets someone who feels like a hero from my storybooks come to life."
Fran suppressed a sigh. She couldn't quite place it, but there was something unusual in the princess's gaze—something she might not have noticed back in her old life, before Satria's constant doting sharpened her instincts.
"Umm… is that the place?" Kiana suddenly piped up, pointing at the ornate doors ahead.
Satya blinked, then let go of Fran's arm with a polite bow. "Ah, yes. Sorry if I was a bother, Fran-sama. Please enjoy yourself." She waved sweetly before retreating.
Fran stared after her a moment longer, unsettled, before Kiana tugged at her sleeve.
"Why do you look pale, Fran? You okay?"
Fran shook her head quickly. "Nah. I'm fine. Let's just… get inside already."
"Right!" Kiana grinned, pushing the doors open eagerly.
And together, the two girls stepped into the steam of the private baths.
•
Steam curled lazily above the warm bath as Fran crouched by the edge, calmly scrubbing the wet, black fur of her Fenrir. The great wolf lay half-submerged, tail flicking lazily, clearly enjoying the rare moment of quiet care. Beside her, Kiana hesitated, hands dipped in the water as she rinsed soap from the creature's other side.
But Kiana's eyes weren't on the wolf. They kept drifting toward Fran.
She remembered the slaver base. The screams. The shadows that moved like blades. The cold, merciless efficiency with which Fran had cut the criminals down.
The memory made her chest tighten. Finally, unable to hold it anymore, she spoke.
"…How?"
Fran paused mid-stroke, glancing over her shoulder. "Hm?"
Kiana swallowed. "How can you just… act like nothing happened? After what we saw. After what you did. I know they were bad guys, but still… couldn't you have just captured them? Handed them over to the authorities?"
Fran didn't answer right away. Instead, she set the brush down, leaned back against the smooth stone wall, and exhaled softly.
"That's why I told you not to follow me," she said at last. Her voice was calm—not defensive, not cold, just matter-of-fact. "I'm… relieved, honestly, that you feel that way. It means you're a good person, Kiana Kaslana."
Kiana's breath caught. "Then… why?"
Fran's blue eyes turned toward her—steady, sharp, yet filled with something deeper than anger.
"Because sometimes there is no other way."
The quiet weight of those words filled the bath like an echo.
"This world isn't like the one you came from," Fran continued, voice low but unwavering. "Here, the strong eat the weak. Laws mean nothing if no one enforces them. The kind of people we faced—they never learn. They only spread pain, suffering, and chains."
She looked down for a moment, hand curling in the Fenrir's damp fur. When she spoke again, her voice was softer… but no less resolute.
"I do what I must… so no child ends up like I did, before I was rescued by him."
Kiana froze. The steam seemed to thicken between them. Fran didn't look older than her—if anything, she seemed younger, smaller, delicate even. Yet the weight behind her eyes was something Kiana had never seen before.
Not just strength. Not just skill. But resolve—the kind that had been carved by years of survival and pain.
Kiana opened her mouth to speak, then closed it again. Words failed her.
She stayed quiet for a long time after Fran's words. The only sounds were the faint ripple of water and the soft huff of the Fenrir as it shifted in the bath.
She stared down at her own hands, pale against the water. Valkyries are supposed to protect people. To fight for justice. To keep hope alive... That was what she had always believed. That was what she had been trained for.
But Fran… Fran had saved those children, ended the slavers without hesitation, and then walked away without asking for reward or recognition.
It hadn't been justice dressed in speeches or medals. It was raw, decisive, and terrifyingly effective.
Kiana Kaslana, the brave Valkyrie who hesitates at blood… can I really protect anyone if I'm afraid to act? The question sat heavy in her chest.
She glanced at Fran. The girl was finishing with the Fenrir, calm and steady, as if the horrors of earlier hadn't touched her. Yet there was no joy in her eyes either. No thrill. Just quiet resolve.
Before Kiana could decide whether to speak again, Fran's head tilted slightly.
Her golden eyes sharpened—suddenly predatory.
"Wait."
Kiana blinked. "…Fran?"
Fran's expression hardened. Her entire presence shifted in an instant—from quiet traveler to apex hunter. The air seemed to thicken, heavy and electric, like the moment before lightning strikes.
"There's a fool trying something funny here," she said, her voice cold and flat.
Kiana felt it too then—a prickle along her skin, an unfamiliar killing intent brushing the edge of her senses.
Fran rose, water dripping from her arms, and without a word released a pulse of will.
It was like the world itself flinched.
A crushing, Predators like aura exploded outward—feral and suffocating, yet perfectly controlled. Kiana's breath caught; her knees almost buckled from the pressure alone.
Somewhere above, on the roof, came a thump.
Then a second. Then the sound of something—or someone—collapsing.
Outside the bath chamber, startled voices echoed.
"W-what happened?!"
"Someone—someone just fell!"
By the time Kiana managed to shake off the weight of Fran's killing intent, the other girl was already strapping her sword to her hip, calm and unhurried.
Fran turned her head slightly toward Kiana, expression unreadable. "Stay close. We have company."
Kiana swallowed hard and nodded, her earlier doubts clashing with the sudden, instinctive realization: This was what it meant to walk Fran's path. This was the world she lived in.
And Kiana wasn't sure if she was ready… but she couldn't look away now.
To be continued...