The girl's voice cut through the silence, straight at the most crucial part, "What Rank are you?"
Sezel's heart skipped a beat, 'Rank?' His mind raced. He needed a believable lie, to claim too high a rank would invite suspicion—a simple rank that wouldn't make them suspicious but would be high enough to justify him still being alive. Rank 3 was the perfect fit. Not strong enough to be a threat, not weak enough to be useless.
He would be able to explain his Fable without any questions. He lowered his gaze, a carefully orchestrated gesture of humility, "I am a Rank 3," he replied.
A quiet sigh of relief passed between the two Slayers. The rigid, defensive posture they had maintained began to soften, her gaze locked at the ground, lost in distant thoughts. There was no more questions for now, it seemed.
"What's wrong?" Sezel asked, walking forward to pick up his katana and slide it into his belt. They didn't react, accepting him as a harmless ally, at least for now.
