Nebinen leaned over the body that Satoru had brought down. The creature, covered in a smooth black carapace, had membranous wings that still twitched from spasms. It was large, nearly the size of Tama or Pochi, and its mandibles opened and closed irregularly, as if refusing to accept its own death.
"…A winged ant," Nebinen murmured, carefully pushing aside one of the wings to examine it better. "I've never seen one this size."
Satoru did not take his eyes off the horizon. His voice was firm, though he didn't raise it.
"Liza, Tama, Pochi. Take your weapons and prepare."
The three reacted immediately. Liza walked toward the baggage with steady steps, while Tama and Pochi moved more quickly, ears perked and tails tense. There was no fear in them, but rather that mixture of tension and anticipation that battle was beginning to awaken in them.
"Martha." Satoru turned his head slightly toward the innkeeper. "Return to the inn. Secure the windows and keep everyone inside."
She hesitated for a moment, but at his gaze she nodded silently and disappeared behind the door.
The heavy sound of a bell broke the quiet. From the nearest tower, its toll spread across the city, unmistakable to anyone who lived there: this was not a routine signal. The streets changed immediately. The shouts of vendors and passersby turned into orders and warnings. Merchants arriving from the road hurried their steps to enter; soldiers ran toward the gate, pushing hard on the massive doors to close them.
A dull thud echoed from the gate. Two ant corpses, dead on the threshold, jammed the mechanism. That instant of delay was enough for several more, pushed by the mass behind them, to burst through, unfolding wings and legs across the cobblestones.
Satoru followed the swarm that entered with his gaze. The creatures weren't fast, but their numbers made the advance constant, forcing the soldiers to step back for every one they cut down.
"Level three," he murmured, more to himself than anyone else. "They wouldn't be a problem for the militia… if there were fewer of them."
The real issue wasn't their strength but their sheer quantity. Even the barrier protecting the city allowed through small groups that scattered quickly, opening holes through which stragglers filtered into the streets.
And the inn, being so close to the gate, was in the direct path of those that slipped past.
"Liza, Tama, Pochi." His voice cut through the noise of battle. "Move ahead and stop those approaching."
The three nodded. Liza raised her spear with a fluency that showed daily practice; Tama and Pochi adjusted their grip on their weapons, tails bristling with tension.
Nebinen stepped toward them.
"I'll go wi—"
"No." Satoru stopped him before he could finish.
He pointed forward, where the three were already running to intercept the first ants that strayed.
Liza was the first to clash with the horde. Her expression didn't change; without hesitation her spear cut through the air with broad, precise movements, each thrust piercing chitin and flesh without losing momentum. A winged ant tried to lunge at her from the side, but she spun the tip of her weapon in a sweeping arc that flung it several meters away, already dead before hitting the ground. She didn't need support; her strength and technique were enough to control an entire front on her own.
Though Liza's level was as low as the children's, her prior training combined with natural talent allowed her to improve faster than the others. In this world, level wasn't the sole measure of a person's fighting ability. Even with similar levels, her combat skills clearly surpassed the girls'.
Tama and Pochi, on the other hand, advanced together, synchronized by the training they had been given. Being less experienced and less talented than Liza, they had been guided to work as a pair from the start.
This made their individual effectiveness a bit weaker compared to Liza's, but Hans had considered this the best short-term path for them. There would be time later to hone their personal strength.
Pochi, with a shield in one hand and a short sword in the other, stood firm against those that tried to get through on the ground. She blocked with her shield, deflected strikes with her sword, and finished them off whenever she saw an opening. Tama took advantage of every one of those openings; her light, sharp daggers sank with precision into the most vulnerable spots. When a winged enemy descended to attack, she would leap with feline agility, driving both blades into its abdomen before pushing off to land outside the reach of its mandibles.
The flow of enemies didn't seem to unnerve them. If not for the constant buzzing of wings and the clacking of mandibles, one might think they were training. Their high-quality weapons pierced the ants' natural armor even with quick strikes.
A few meters away, Satoru watched without moving. He truly didn't need to intervene, since from the shadows Hans had been intercepting any creature that slipped past the girls' control and neared the inn. To Nebinen and the patrons watching from the windows, the demi-humans were the center of the picture: swift and effective figures who, against all odds, held back a horde that seemed inexhaustible.
Silently, Satoru acknowledged that while their strength was still far from what he and Hans would deem acceptable, they now had enough to justify their role as bodyguards.
And with their current display, no one would doubt why he kept them by his side.
The clash dragged on for more than half an hour. The initial intensity waned as the waves grew less numerous; from the main gate one could see how the bodies piling up along the street began to form small barricades that slowed the advance of the remaining swarm.
Liza was the first to step back—not out of fatigue, but because there were no more enemies within her reach. She spun her spear to shake off blood and fragments of chitin, watching as Tama and Pochi cut down the last ones with an almost mechanical rhythm.
When the final ant fell, the three regrouped without waiting for orders. Their next movement came naturally: drawing their hunting knives and opening the bodies to extract the magic cores. They worked with the efficiency of those who had already repeated the process many times.
Nebinen approached, still processing what he had just witnessed.
"Incredible…" he murmured. "I didn't expect them to have improved so much in such a short time."
The girls didn't stop to answer, but Liza briefly raised her gaze and nodded, accepting the praise with dignity, showing herself as a servant who took recognition as a reflection of her master's greatness.
The younger ones, however, though they tried to imitate Liza, couldn't help but laugh and beam openly. Once finished, they returned to Satoru with a bag already heavy from the collected cores.
Nebinen lifted a hand over each of them, chanting a brief spell. Healing light spread through their bodies, closing cuts and stopping minor bleeding.
"Thank you," said Liza in her usual tone.
"Thank you!" Tama and Pochi echoed almost at once, smiling tiredly.
Then Tama gasped as she looked at her dress.
"It's torn!"
Pochi glanced down at hers and frowned, her face turning crestfallen. Liza said nothing, but her cloak and skirt bore cuts and stains that were impossible to hide.
Satoru said nothing, though he remembered that this world had a magic capable of cleaning clothes. As for the tears… he wondered if Hans could repair them. But before he could pursue the thought, someone moved.
Among the curious who had gathered after the battle, a middle-aged man stepped forward. He wore clean mail and armor, but without visible insignia. In his arm he carried a small notebook, his expression carefully serious, his posture radiating an authority he seemed to enjoy.
"Hand over the magic cores," he ordered bluntly, stopping in front of Liza. "The government will purchase the entire lot."
Liza stared at him in silence, with no intention of actually surrendering the bag, while Tama and Pochi instinctively shrank back. The man extended his hand, as if the gesture alone were enough to seal the deal.
"I don't have time for explanations," he added impatiently. "I'll deliver the receipt later."
Satoru, who until then had remained on the sidelines, turned his head to look at him. He was about to step forward, but Nebinen moved first.
The priest kept his smile while drawing from his robes a document sealed with the emblem of Count Seiryuu. He held it out just long enough for the other man to see it.
The change in the man's expression was instantaneous. His lips pressed into a tense line, and without another word he turned on his heel and left, vanishing into the crowd.
"That sort always appears after a crisis," Nebinen remarked, tucking the document away. "They use their position to intimidate and profit from others… I'm sorry you had to see something like that. I'll make sure to report it afterward."
Satoru took a second before nodding in acknowledgment. Although the situation might appear suspicious, he knew it hadn't been staged. That same man had appeared in the original account and would lose his position regardless of Nebinen's actions.
It seemed he already had a history.
Nebinen's gaze drifted briefly to the demi-humans' damaged clothes, but before he could comment, Satoru stepped closer to the three, his shadow falling over them as they still caught their breath. He extended his hand toward Liza, and without resistance, she handed him the bag heavy with cores.
"Well done."
He didn't say it grandly, nor with exuberance, but for them those two words were enough. Tama grinned with pride, Pochi tilted her head shyly, and Liza nodded, serious, but with a faint spark in her eyes.
Satoru looked over the cuts and stains on their garments, mentally reviewing what had happened.
"As for your reward," he added after a brief silence. "First, there's a place I've heard about… we'll go eat there."
Satoru would have liked to offer something more, but he realized his knowledge of his companions' tastes and preferences was unsatisfactorily small. He could have mentioned repairing their clothes as part of it, but that seemed more like his responsibility than a reward they had earned.
Making a mental note to search his memory for better rewards, he was interrupted by a familiar voice.
"There's no need to go that far," said Mosa, Martha's mother and the inn's owner, approaching with a warm smile. "My husband and I will prepare a feast right here, to thank you for what you did."
Satoru regarded her in silence, noting a flicker of hesitation in her expression.
"Although…" Mosa continued, "I don't know if the customers will feel comfortable with them inside. We could set up a table outside and—"
She never finished. From within, several voices rose almost at once, some sheepish, others more direct:
"They can come in."
"They've earned it."
"They don't deserve to eat outside after what they did."
Mosa blinked, surprised, then smiled with a more genuine gesture.
"Then it will be here."
Satoru nodded, and together they headed toward the inn, under the approving gazes of those who, until recently, had only watched from a distance.
Inside the inn, the atmosphere was unlike any other day. The usual murmur of customers was replaced by expectant silence as Satoru and the three demi-humans crossed the threshold. There was no tension or rejection in their eyes, only curiosity… and a note of respect that hadn't been there before.
In truth, this welcome was not solely for their recent deeds. With someone as impossible to ignore as Satoru present, nearly all his actions could be divided into two: when he frightened others, and when he did something else.
It had already been mentioned several times how Satoru's presence could affect others in diverse ways, so seeing how such a mysterious figure interacted or spoke naturally drew attention.
Because of that, the presence of the demi-humans quickly became an everyday matter for those present. Furthermore, seeing how the three had gone from inexperienced to quickly improving to their current point had remained in many minds.
Strength, after all, draws respect and attention—especially when the one who possesses it uses it for the benefit of others.
Mosa and her husband moved quickly behind the counter, organizing dishes, pulling out trays, and serving drinks with Martha's help. The aroma of roasted meat and freshly baked bread began to fill the room, mixing with the warmth of the hearth.
The girls took seats at a large table near the center. Pochi and Tama, a little stiff at first, glanced around cautiously. It was unusual for them to be surrounded by so many humans without meeting distrust. Liza, on the other hand, sat upright, keeping her composure though her ears tilted slightly back, as if expecting the atmosphere to shift.
But that shift never came. A couple of customers greeted them with a nod; others, more reserved, inclined their heads before returning to their food. There were no malicious comments, no scornful looks. Only recognition.
When the trays began to arrive, loaded with meats, bread, soups, and fresh fruit, Pochi and Tama exchanged excited glances. Mosa set an especially large plate in front of Liza, smiling as she noticed that although she tried to remain serious, the warrior's tail twitched slightly.
"Eat as much as you want," the innkeeper said. "Today is a day to celebrate."
Satoru sat at one end of the table, silent, observing as the girls' initial stiffness slowly gave way to quiet ease. The customers chatted among themselves, and the sound of cups and cutlery against plates filled the room, as though nothing disturbed the normality.
But for them, this moment was anything but normal.
***
The banquet unfolded in a lively atmosphere. Between the arriving dishes and the laughter of the customers, the three demi-humans became the center of attention. Even those who normally avoided interacting with them now approached to congratulate them, ask questions, or simply thank them.
Tama and Pochi responded enthusiastically, smiling and wagging their tails each time someone praised them. Liza, however, maintained her usual posture, receiving compliments with a slight nod… until at one point even her demeanor cracked. A faint blush crossed her cheeks before she turned her gaze aside, pretending to study her plate.
It couldn't be helped—a life full of scorn doesn't prepare you for praise or for being appreciated by others.
The children, not only because of their age but because they had been born slaves, were especially vulnerable to others' approval.
Liza's case was more complex. She had lived a childhood outside slavery, yet the constancy of misfortune in her life had hardened her character. Still, she couldn't deny that she felt a quiet pride.
Taking advantage of the fact that the room's attention was on them, Satoru and Nebinen moved to a side table near one of the windows. From there, they could observe the celebration without directly taking part, the warm light of the lamps creating a comfortable barrier between them and the bustle.
Nebinen took a sip of water before beginning.
"As you recall, I did not come only to thank you," he said in a low voice. "What we discovered at the site of the incident… the matrix. Our mages and priests confirmed it extends across a wide area, but we cannot determine its exact purpose. None of us have seen anything like it before."
Satoru listened silently, without interruption.
"We fear," Nebinen continued, "that a mistake in handling it could cause disaster: an explosion, a curse… or the summoning of a demonic swarm. So the question is simple: what is that thing the demon left? And what can we do to dispose of it?"
Satoru, conscious of his own nature, knew that in many fields he was little more than a newborn. The lack of memories of his past life left him without real experience in political or commercial exchanges, and that was the main reason he had avoided private meetings with society's true powerbrokers.
Yet there was one thing he trusted more than his magical power or knowledge: his ability to project an image of authority. To boast, to appear, to use every advantage available to force others to play by his rhythm… and when the opportunity arose, to strike unexpectedly. In this conversation with Nebinen, the curious part was that he didn't have to fabricate anything; he already had something he could play as a trump card.
Satoru set a hand on the table, leaning slightly toward him.
"It is a matrix to create a labyrinth."
Nebinen's expression hardened—not from distrust, but from the weight of what that implied.
"A… labyrinth?"
Satoru nodded slowly.
Nebinen didn't respond immediately. He leaned back in his chair, arms crossing, his gaze lost somewhere outside the window.
"This… changes everything."
A labyrinth was a serious matter for a city. Not because it was bad, but for the opposite reason.
An inexhaustible source of monsters, treasure, and danger. For nobles, it was a mine of income and prestige. For a temple, under normal circumstances it would be welcomed—or rather, if any could choose, they would be eager to have a labyrinth in their city.
A place where one could level up, where one could train or obtain treasure and gain recognition, a place that would draw people from every land. For a commercial city like Seiryuu, it was especially valuable.
But… whether the temple would accept a labyrinth of demonic origin was another matter altogether.
This was the reason behind Satoru's confidence, and the priest was quick to affirm his thoughts.
Nebinen released a restrained sigh.
"I cannot decide alone what to do with something like this. I will need to consult… and that will take time."
"You will come again," Satoru affirmed, not as a question.
Nebinen barely smiled.
"There's a possibility."
He didn't even know if he would be the one to return… or if someone else would come in his place.
The two remained silent for a few moments, watching as, in the middle of the hall, Tama and Pochi laughed with a group of customers while Liza, still slightly flushed, accepted another compliment.
The conversation, unfortunately, did not end with the revelation of the labyrinth. Nebinen had too many questions, and Satoru had to give too many answers he would have preferred to measure more carefully. They spoke of risks, of how such a structure would shift the balance of power in the region, and of what it could mean for the temple.
At least, within what Nebinen knew, his opinion might carry some weight or be of interest to the higher clergy. He had been prepared for several scenarios… but not for this one, and so he was forced to improvise on the spot.
It was during this exchange that Nebinen asked, almost casually, how much longer he planned to stay in the city.
"Not long," Satoru replied, as calmly as ever.
The priest watched him in silence for a moment, understanding that this was not an evasion but a decision already made. Shortly after, he rose and took his leave, assuring that he would return with an answer before Satoru departed.
When night covered the city, the inn slowly emptied. The remaining customers drank at a leisurely pace, and the three demi-humans, exhausted but satisfied, took advantage of the peace to enjoy true rest. For the first time in a long while, they would sleep in a bed. Satoru had used the occasion to pay for them a room.
The rest of the inn soon fell silent. Outside, the cool air and deserted streets gave the city a deceptive calm. While all slept, Satoru and Hans moved noiselessly, following a precise course that led them into a secluded alley.
There was someone Satoru needed to meet—someone who fit into the pieces of a larger event approaching. His steps were not hurried; he knew the exact point where that coincidence would occur. Hans, unseen by all but him, followed close.
The alley lay shrouded in shadow, lit only by a distant lamp. There, cornered against a wall, a tiny ratman covered by a cloak shielded with his body what appeared to be another child, wrapped entirely in a blanket.
Mize, as he would later introduce himself, did not have the build of a demi-human like Liza or the girls. He was, quite literally, a bipedal rat of childlike size, with a sharp muzzle and long ears, his bright eyes darting from one enemy to another in search of an escape that didn't exist. In his hands he held a magic weapon, too short to be a sword, too long to be a dagger, evidently forged to measure for him.
In front of him, five shadowy figures closed in. They moved swiftly, their precise strikes seeking to open a breach in his defense. The ratman could barely keep pace, blocking and deflecting blows, forced back with every clash. His cloak whipped with each impact, and the child behind him made no sound at all, oblivious or unconscious to the danger.
Satoru watched from a nearby rooftop, gauging the scene. When one of the attackers slipped behind Mize, he lowered his hand in a brief gesture.
Eleven luminous arrows materialized around him, emerging from a single point in the air as if shot straight from the heavens.
[Magic Arrow].
The arrows descended at a lethal angle, striking down two of the shadows before they could turn. The other three reacted instantly, leaping back to escape… but the arrows twisted mid-flight, pursuing their silhouettes. The second volley hit them all, eliciting a faint hiss as they dissolved into dark smoke that the wind carried away in seconds.
Mize froze, breathing heavily, still shielding the child with his body.
The last traces of smoke faded as Satoru descended from the rooftop, his footsteps soft on the cobblestones. Mize followed him with his eyes, still not lowering his weapon, though the slight tilt of his ears and the tension of his tail made it clear he recognized the difference in power. All his instincts screamed at that moment.
"Those aren't enemies you can face alone," Satoru said calmly, stopping a few paces away.
The ratman didn't respond immediately. He adjusted the blanket covering the small figure in his arms, ensuring the face remained hidden, before speaking in a high but firm voice.
"I didn't ask for help."
Satoru narrowed his eyes slightly. It was a ruder response than he expected. When Satou had helped this person, he had been entrusted with the child's care almost immediately. But this was what he received? The comparison left a bitter taste. It wasn't the words themselves, but what they implied.
"And yet you needed it." Deciding to leave that reflection for later, Satoru tilted his head slightly. "I can help you beyond this encounter. Protect you and your ward."
Mize squinted, distrustful.
"In exchange for what?"
Satoru gestured lightly toward the spot where the shadows had vanished.
"When I deal with the one pursuing you, everything that individual possesses will be mine."
The silence stretched for several seconds. Mize didn't ask how he knew someone was behind those shadows, nor where Satoru drew the certainty that they carried something valuable. His instincts told him the man before him was dangerous… no, powerful beyond words. Honestly, all he wanted was to get away from him, but he also knew rejecting him might mean the child's death.
The attacks from the shadows had taken their toll: his body felt weak, and he could barely stand. This situation—on the thin line between life and death—had pushed his senses and survival instinct to their limit. He didn't feel he could trust this man; his gaze wasn't that of a good samaritan. It was cold, and the gleam in his eyes, even in the middle of the night, sent shivers down his spine.
Satoru stepped closer, his gaze fixed on the ratman's.
"I can feel it—you carry the magical essence of a lich. That interests me."
Mize's tail stiffened, and for a moment he seemed about to retreat. Then slowly, he lowered his weapon, though he did not put it away.
"This sounds like a deal with a demon."
"A crude comparison, especially for one I just saved. But even if it were so," Satoru replied with total indifference, "the only thing that matters is whether you want to survive this night."
Mize exhaled slowly, as if surrendering to an inevitable force.
"…I accept."